Juicy Unicorn
by dance-tilyou'redead
Summary: Brittany decides that it would be an excellent idea for Santana to seduce Quinn. Set at the beginning of season 3. AU from 3x01 onwards. A bit of Faberry and Brittana. M rating for later sexy times.
1. prologue

AN: I promise this is a Quintana Fic. This is just a kind of Prologue.

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><p>It's the night after our first day of Senior Year and I find myself sitting cross legged on Brittany's white comforter painting Brittany's toenails. We're listening to music and talking about school and Glee and generally wishing it was still summer. I have a vodka lemonade calling my name from the bedside table and Brittany is flicking though a magazine while sipping on her own drink. We eventually run out of stuff to talk about and fall into an easy silence.<p>

After what must have been at least ten minutes of quiet Brittany puts down her magazine and looks up to where I'm sitting, "You're allowed to want her you know."

I have no idea what she's talking about. Brittany has this odd tendency to start conversations mid way through. I know that this habit can make her seem vague and air headed. The blonde hair can sometimes make people assume she's certain things too. But the truth about my best friend is that she is actually a genius. Like certifiable. Brittany isn't slow. It's everyone else who's failing to keep up with her rapid thought processes.

I can _almost_ forgive people for making negative assumptions about her intelligence because honestly, I only worked out the whole genius thing, like two years ago. Plus she kinda does let people talk her into some pretty stupid stuff. And she likes to play the bimbo thing up sometimes if stuff get tense and she wants everyone to laugh. Or if she's bored and wants people to laugh. Or if she's uncomfortable and wants everyone to laugh. So I don't _automatically_ cut every person who assumes she's dumb.

My point being that even though Britt is off the charts smart, I can usually keep up with her. I am pretty smart and I know Brittany so well that I can usually follow her unique logic. Today though, I'm completely stumped.

"What do you mean Britt?" I have to ask but I keep painting her toenails, focusing on spreading the paint evenly. The bright pink little bottle is clasped tightly in my hand. If I spilled any of it I'd be fucked. I blow on the nails to dry them as I replace the brush into the bottle. Brittany doesn't say anything because she's waiting for me to look at her. Once I've stashed the bottle on the bedside table I lie down along Brittany's side, propped up on one elbow so I can look into her face and so I can sip at my vodka lemonade.

"Quinn. You're allowed to want her," she iterated slowly.

Okay, I'm still confused. We'd both seen the hot mess that is now Quinn Fabray at school that morning. It was the first time either of us had seen her in two months. The golden haired chastity queen had turned a serious new page for the new school year. We had been witness to the first cracks in the Fabray suit of armor when we were in New York last year. I honestly thought she was just in a bit of a funk.

Stupidly, I thought that a new haircut and some time away from school would get her back to her old self. I was so fucking wrong. At some point during the summer—probably the same time she stopped replying to texts from _anyone_ and disappeared—she must have snapped. I imagine she was like an over tight rubber band. After everything with Beth and Prom Queen and then Finn dumping her at a fucking _funeral_ like the doorknob her is Quinn finally just let go. So the first day back at school had seen a brand new Quinn Fabray. She waltzed into school late sporting a brand new badass persona. She'd at some point decided to go with the just-been-fucked hairstyle, tinging it with hot pink. It would have been totally hot if she hadn't looked so damn close to homeless.

She'd tied a low rise, floor length tie-die skirt around her waist and coupled it with a scrappy old T-shirt. With the sleeves rolled up and the middle cut out of it she actually managed to show a decent amount of skin which I could respect. But all in all she looked terrible. Kinda really fucking hot, but terrible. Well, the nose ring was gross and so was that ridiculous tattoo—God I hope it's temporary or something—so the fact that she was swaying her hips so much or smirking so convincingly with those kinda hot new sunglasses could only go so far to redeem her from the fact that she looked like a—okay, really hot—homeless person. What was my point again? Oh right Brittany is still looking at me.

"Umm Britt you'll have to bear with me for a sec cause I'm still not with you. Where do I want Quinn?"

Brittany smirked at the question. "On your face?"

_Holy shit!_ Thank god I didn't decide to mix my vodka with orange juice or pink lemonade like Brittany did because I just sprayed that shit all over myself, the bed and Brittany's magazine. Brittany pats me on the back as I attempt to remove the offending liquid from my lungs.

"Holy shit Britt, do you have to say shit like that while I'm in the middle of a drink? Fuck!" I'm completely lost for words and Brittany just laughs. _Fucking laughs._ Like she just caught a midget crapping in the woods. _Oh God. _Scary visual place. A _Berry_ visual place. I shudder involuntarily and wipe at my mouth as Brittany just smiles serenely down at me. "Why the fuck would I want Quinn...like that?"

She rolls her eyes at me as though I am truly stupid. "Because...She's all kinds of hot now. I totally caught you leering at her today. Everyone was. Including me."

I don't want to admit that she could be right. Quinn's been a friend and rival for too long for me to suddenly decide that I would like to bone her.

"Leering doesn't mean I want her Britt it just means that I have eyes. And Quinn has gone all hobo chic since the last time we saw her. Maybe the look works for her."

"It _does_ work for her and _you_ want her. On you. For sexy times," Brittany sighs and puts down her magazine as I take a calming sip of my drink. I'm wary of the iced beverage, not sure it isn't ready to make another break for the inside of my lungs. "I'm saying that it's okay and that you should go for it. I know the last couple of months have been hard."

I roll my eyes. Normally I'd reign it in but that right there, was the understatement of the century. The last three months have been hell. Ever since Brittany broke up with Artie we've been in this weird holding pattern. Without the holding. Britt says we're working on trusting each other again. Read: we're working on _my_ 'trust issues' because apparently it's a thing.

Britt says that I need to trust that she won't abandon me for some boy again(Which I totally don't think is a thing anymore but whatever). I also need to learn to 'trust myself' not to tip toe back into the closet. Apparently I also need to learn to trust everyone else not to be a bunch of judgmental fucking assholes all the time(this is the tough one).

So long story short, my 'trust issues' have resulted in me having no sex for over three fucking months. It's ridiculous to think that me and Britt used to have way more sex when were were _both_ with other people than we do now. Now that we have no other commitments and we've both agreed that we love each other and should be together, she's leaving me high and fucking dry.

"So connect the dots for me here Britt. You think...That I want Quinn," Brittany nods. "Which means...that I should...have sex with her?" I ask hesitantly and Brittany taps the side of her nose. "Because then I can...confirm that I have a secret hobo fetish?" Brittany scrunches up her nose. Wrong answer. "So that whenever _you and I_ start having sex there can be a threesome..." I've barely got the words out and Brittany is shaking her head emphatically. "No threesomes, got it."

I think about our goals relating to my 'issues'. Things I have to accomplish before Brittany will have sex with me again. One: trust her not to run off with a boy again. Yeah, no. Sleeping with Fabray won't help with that. Two: generally rock the Lesbionic mojo permanently, trusting myself to not sneak back into the closet. That _could_ be relevant. Three: stop assuming that every person that looks at me can sense my girl loving tendencies and hating me for it. That isn't gonna be fixed by anything other that an apocalypse so, no. Plus, if there's one person who has more trust issues than me it's Quinn. Even before the badass makeover from hell.

Brittany is still watching me with a patient expression, sipping slowly at her drink. I try again with my new theory. "Okay, hows this? I need to seduce and then sleep with the pressed lemon that is Quinn Fabray...So that I can...embrace my sapphic self?" Brittany mutely nods and urges me to continue. I'm pretty sure these charades are getting old fast but she obviously wants me to get this. And I'm kinda having fun so I play along. "Right, so I embrace my inner lesbo by sleeping with a girl who _isn't_ you, also confirming that I am hot for girls in general and not just hot for _your_ fine self." Brittany claps in celebration but remains silent.

I've missed something. _Well fuck._ I've run out of ideas so I look into Brittany's face and see a devious sparkle there. She's having way too much fun playing with me. And I love her so much that I not only let her but I actually _like_ it. God, I'm whipped.

The answer hits me and I sit up excitedly. "I have it!" Brittany gives me a look that explicitly states _finally you idiot_ so I spit it out in one embarrassing jumble of words. "Andthenwecanhavesex?"

Brittany must secretly hate me because she still doesn't say anything. She opens her lips, but only to for affect as she cups her hand to her ear as if she didn't hear me. Not cool. I've had enough of her little game and now it's my turn. I place my glass beside the bed and grin mischievously at Brittany to let her know I'm abouts to get sexy. She sets her glass on the bedside table next to mine as I crawl over her body to hover over her. I know I won't be getting very far before Brittany puts the breaks on but I decide to enjoy whatever I can get. I lean into her lightly with my knees on either side of her hips. I rest my hands on either side of her head, supporting my weight.

I turn the sexy on full throttle as I gaze down at her. "So you feel," I adjust myself so that I'm resting on my forearms letting my body press softly into hers. "that it would be beneficial," I kiss her cheek gently. "to our future...relationship," I kiss her other cheek. "If I seduce Quinn," another kiss to her left temple. "effectively dragging her from the warm closeted embrace of Mr Tumnus," right temple. "so I can have sex with a girl who isn't you," nose. "Embracing my inner Ellen and preparing the way for you and I, " I kiss the skin just below her lips. "to finally be ready," I smile, hoping that the next words will be the right ones. "to be girlfriends." my heart speeds up as I say the word, still not really comfortable with a word so...binding.

It's the right answer finally and Brittany grins up at me. I capture her lips. My heart beats even faster as I pour all of my love into that one kiss and Brittany kisses me back with just as much passion. I could kiss her like this for hours but Brittany pulls back slightly and I follow her lead. Because I'm respectful and shit now.

"My Tana is so smart," she laughs and rolls me onto my back. If it was 6 months ago I would have resisted the change in position but now...hey I'm growing as a person. She grins down at me. "And do you know what else will be, like the best ever fringe benefit of this plan?" I shake my head because I really couldn't think past the fact that Brittany's leg was pressed firmly against my crotch. "Well if I'm right," and she usually is. "And I usually am. Quinn's stuck as a pressed lemon," Brittany translation: repressed lesbian. "and once you and her get your sweet lady kisses on together she will get to be unpressed. She be like a super juicy lemon _and _a unicorn."

Despite what we had just spent the last half hour discussing, I hadn't expected Brittany's conclusion. "So you really think Quinn is Gay? Like capital G? Cause I was kinda kidding with the whole Narnia/closet reference."

Brittany nodded as she started playing with my hair. "Sure she is. She's just spent a lot of time being all pressed and now that she's finally embracing a her that isn't all pressed she'll finally be able to get her mack on with all sorts of girls." A new thought lit her face with excitement. "And I'll bet, San that it'll be one girl in particular who get's to squeeze Q's lemon," I feel this metaphor may be getting out of hand. "One girl that we know really well."

I groan at her deliberate obtuseness, "Please don't make me play the guessing game anymore. Just tell me. Who do you think is gonna get the benefit of a newly unpressed and juicy Fabray?"

Brittany giggled. "Well. I think that there is a Berry which could do with some juicing too."

"Berry?" _No fucking way. _"No fucking way. That's just gross and so wrong Britt. Why would you even say that out loud?" I shudder at the thought.

Brittany—bless her—giggles, "No really, think about it. Q's had a bug up her but about Rachel since freshman year. She can't stop thinking about her and it's always bothered Quinn that Rachel is with Finn and _not_ just in a you-stole-my-boyfriend way. I don't think Quinn even _likes_ Finn. I mean she slept with Puck and lied to him about practically everything both times they were together as boyfriend girlfriend. And with getting pregnant the first time she had sex. Clearly, she's not meant for heterosexuality. And Rachel is so determined to be Quinn's friend even though Quinn was so awful to her for so long," a painfully sentimental expression spreads across her face. "And San, they would be totally cute together. Quinn and Rachel. Can't you just picture it?"

The inconceivably nasty image of Quinn and Rachel Berry getting thrusty with each other forces itself into my mind. I screw up my features, begging Brittany without words to _please _stop talking about this. She mercifully, stops her teasing and I try to remember Brittany in her bathing suit over the summer hoping I can wash away any remnants of Faberry. Oh fuck, now I've got a couple name for them in my head. Great.

It's extremely possible that Brittany is on the right track here though so I decide to go along with her train of thought(even if it's a totally nasty train), "So you think Berry's pressed as well? Or is she just Gay for Fabray?"

Brittany wears a thoughtful expression, no doubt running through a catalogue of observations from Glee. "I think she could go either way," her face shifts again. "Their baby's would be almost as cute as ours San."

I groan but can't stop the smile that quirks up my lips because sometimes Brittany is just so adorable I forget that I'm a hard bitch who hates kids. Kids are gross. But Brittany is utterly adorable and our kids _would_ be adorable too. And fuck me if I don't feel my heart actually warming with her words. I want to believe that it's only because in this moment she is making little circles against my chest with her thumb.

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><p>AN: I haven't forgotten about my other fic but I will be updating this story tomorrow before I get back to FPS. Please R&amp;R. I will love you forever ;)<p> 


	2. Shit Gets Real

It's Friday before I can bring myself to approach Quinn. Honestly, Brittany's little declaration had me kind of rattled. I knew that I would have to face Quinn eventually because I, Santana Lopez am whipped. All Brittany has to do it turn those baby blues in my direction and I'm at her beckoned call. It's with Brittany in mind that I approach Quinn under the bleachers where she's hanging out with her new 'friends'.

Quinn's surrounded these skanks when she spots me. Every single girl is leaning against one surface or another with a cigarette in hand. Now I'm pretty badass. I run this school because I am a hard bitch and I take no prisoners. But if it came to a real scrap there is no way I could take a single one of these girls. I would be nothing but a pile of whimpering bruises on the floor. The only reason that I'm HBIC and not one of these girls is because they don't want the title.

So it's with a certain amount of trepidation that I walk into the shadows under the bleachers holding my head high and trying to appear nonchalant as I quietly loose my shit. One of the girls tosses her cigarette at the ground when she spots me approaching.

"Hey Q I think you've got another visitor."

"Another?" I'd honestly thought I would have been the first to brave this particular den of despair. I'm a little worried that Britt might have beaten me to the punch. I have some serious trouble imagining the bubbly blonde facing this group. I imagine it would go something along the lines of _Hi I'm Brittany and I'm a Bicorn and I'm pretty sure you are all unicorns which makes us all almost related so we should be friends!_ I shudder at the though of what these girls could do to her. Britt is a beautiful, inteligent person who wants to believe the best of people but sometimes her naiveté can scare the shit out of me.

"Rachel has already tried Santana," Quinn doesn't bother looking at me when she speaks, finding her own finger nails infinitely more interesting than anything else. I know this technique. I perfected this technique. It means she's listening.

Wait a freaking goddamned minute. Berry has already propositioned Q for sex? "Okay first up: when did you start calling her anything but manhands? And second: Berry already came to you for sex?"

"What the hell are you on about Santana? She came to get me to rejoin glee." Quinn was wearing the same fucked-if-I-care expression she had when Britt and I asked her to rejoin Cheerios.

I hadn't even thought of Glee Club after Mr Schue had kicked me out following the little purple piano...incident. Honestly? I'd kinda been doing my best to not think about it. It's not like I'd wanted to hurt anybody with my little pyrotechnics. And the dance number I had my Cheerios rocking behind Blain's little sing along was fucking hot. So I'm pretty sure everyone is totally overreacting.

I focus on Quinn because I need to get the hell away from these Skanks. And into a shower. "Look Q I'm not here about Glee. If you want to waste away in this," I glance around at the other Skanks, calculating my chances of getting out alive if I openly insulted them. "in this particular...venue, then that's your purgatory." Why yes I do appreciate a good word play. Like Britt's ballad/mallard joke? Genius!

Quinn walks towards me, tossing her cigarette away. That smirk is firmly in place and I nearly lose what cool i'd been able to maintain. She takes yet another step towards me, effectively invading my personal space. "What exactly are you doing here Santana?"

"Fine Q, I'll keep this short. And not just because it smells like feet and weed down here," I try not to flinch when I here one of the Skanks crack her knuckles. "You're Mom has gone away on her annual Jesus Booze Cruise this year right?" Quinn just raises one delicate eyebrow. I take this as a yes. Judy hadn't missed that cruise the whole time I've known the Fabrays. I couldn't imagine her missing it for something as petty as a divorce. "Well don't make any plans tonight because you and me. We're gon get our drink on."

She rolls her eyes in a move I'm pretty sure she stole from me. "And what if I'm not gonna be home S? Maybe I have something better to do with my night than listen to you bitch about glee club or cheerios or whatever."

I try not to let any anger show, "And I wouldn't ordinarily try to cut into your new brooding time or whatever but..." I sigh finally glancing away from her eyes. "Britt thinks we need some quality time," I look back into her eyes. "Look, you won't even have to talk to me ok. I'll bring the booze, you just have to unlock your front door."

"Well with an invitation like that."

I know that's a yes. "Make sure you have mixers."

I rock up on the Fabray's doorstep at 5. It suddenly occurs to me to wonder if it's still the 'Fabray' house if Judy goes back to her maiden name. And what about Quinn? Will she still want to be a Fabray? Her father was the one to kick her out when she needed him most. Mind you, Judy wasn't exactly rushing to Quinn's defense either.

I knock on the door. There's a bellow of 'come in' from somewhere in the house. Apparently I'm meant to let myself in so I do, pushing open the door and closing it behind me with a slam.

"I brought Vodka Q! I'm just gonna go put it in the—" I cut myself off as I walk into the kitchen because Quinn is right there at the breakfast bar. She has her chemistry text book in front of her. I scoff. Of course the whole rebel without a cause look is just a smoke screen. She's still the same little miss perfect test scores.

Although. I had heard a rather fascinating story from one of the Cheerios after school. Apparently Quinn had rocked into English ten minutes late. When the teacher had tried to ask her where she'd been Quinn had flipped him the bird, told him to mind his own fucking business and sat down to read something entirely non-syllabus. The truly remarkable thing according to the cheerio(who's name I flatly cannot remember) was that Quinn had gotten away with it. Assed if anyone knows how she got away with it but she did. Not even a detention. She just gave Mr Henry that cold-as-fuck Quinn Fabray stare and he all but buckled in his chair.

Yet here she is just hours later dutifully doing her homework after just one day of school. Like a chump.

"Seriously Q? Are you doing your homework right now?"

"Yes Santana," she says without bothering to look up at me. "And you might want to think about doing yours. SATs are coming up and you know just as well as I do that college is our best chance of getting the fuck out of Lima."

I can't help but glance around the kitchen once just to make sure that Russell Fabray wasn't still lurking somewhere. That man had an uncanny ability to hear cussing from a mile away. I had been boxed around the ears by that bastard more times than I could count. Quinn's new vocabulary Is going to be an adjustment.

"Okay miss GPA, what about that little incident in English today? One of the girls said you put on quite a show." I didn't have to say my source was a Cheerio. Quinn's a bright girl.

"Mr Henry is an idiot."

"So you decided to cuss him out so you could what? Enjoy his idiocy in detentions as well?"

"Everyone knows he's an idiot, I was just the one to call him out on it. I'm already reading at college level S. I Can pass my English exams without his assistance."

"So why do you even show up."

Quinn looks honestly stumped for a moment. She shrugs, "Habit."

I'm bored with this conversation and I really need a drink before I can bring up Britt's little plan so I move to the fridge to find a mixer. Quinn's well stocked up on orange juice so I'm thinking she's as much up for a drink as I am. She shuts her text book and puts everything into the bag at her feet as I grab two glasses from the cupboard above the bench. I crack ice into the glasses from the tray I'd grabbed with the orange juice and pore in a healthy slosh of vodka. Once the orange juice is topped up I take a long swig from one glass and hand Quinn the other. She takes it without argument and sculls it in one.

Apparently it's going to be one of those nights.

I finish my drink and refill my glass along with Quinn's. She picks up the vodka bottle and moves towards the living room. I follow with the orange juice and ice tray.

Quinn flicks on the TV and flops into the couch. She's wearing a more relaxed version of her new hobo skank wear. Denim cutoff shorts paired with a loose Tshirt which had the sleeves rolled up. "do you want to watch a movie or something?"

I realise that my cheerios uniform is starting to really annoy me so I tell her to pick whatever she wants to watch and grab my bag from the kitchen before heading to the bathroom to change.

I lock the door behind me once i get into the bathroom. I'm nervous. I shouldn't be fucking nervous but I am. I don't know how to deal with this new Quinn. Brittany's idea is seeming more and more ridiculous but I can't see any way out of it. I somehow have to talk her into having sex. I have to talk her into having sex with a girl. A girl that she probably doesn't like so much right now. I mean we're still best friends but I've barely seen her in months and If I'm honest with myself I know I let us grow apart when I was in the midst of my little gay panic at the end of Junior Year. Not to mention she was in a whole other world of Prom Queen crazy at the time.

So now here I am staring at myself in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom of the Fabray Manor freaking the fuck out. My pep talk skills have seriously atrophied under Coach Sue's tutelage so right now all I have running through my head is Sue's voice. 'You think this is hard? Try teaching evolution to a young Sarah Palin. Now that's hard.' Oddly enough that actually helps. It reminds me that I'm Santana Fucking Lopez.

That's right. I am Santana Lopez and I am the hottest lay at McKinley. Four month sexual hiatus or not I can rock the most pious of virgin's world.

I smile ironically at the thought that Quinn practically still is a virgin. Aside from the whole carrying Pucks mutant spawn for 9 months. The actual conception part is something that still boggles the mind. Although I am forcibly reminded of the other rumor around school. The one about Quinn dating a thirty year old skateboarder. Maybe she's a little less virginal these days. Hell i've never dated anyone that old. Maybe she'll be able to show me some tricks. I chuckle at this thought as I pull my Hives Tshirt on with a pair of old gym shorts.

I pull my hair out of the tight high pony tail and shake out the strands so the locks fall loosely around my shoulders. I take one last glance in the mirror, brace myself and open the door to return to the living room.

Quinn's cradling a drink which I suspect must be her third, possibly her fourth going by the way she put down the first drink. "Took your time Lopez. I picked Mean Girls."

Classic sleepover chick flick. I can't disapprove though. That Christmas dance scene is awkwardly pretty hot.

"Shove over Fabray." I sit down next to her on the couch, just a little closer than I ordinarily would. If I'm gonna be making moves. I'm gonna be making moves. I grab my drink from where i left it on the coffee table and drink it quickly so I can pour another. The vodka is starting to neutralize my taste buds which is a-okay with me.

We watch the movie in silence as we sip at our drinks. I'm watching Quinn from out the corner of my eye trying to figure her out. She seems so relaxed right now. Like, more relaxed than I've ever seen her. Hang on.

"Q are you stoned?"

She looks at me with a stern expression. A stern expression that starts to crack with a slight flicker in one cheek. Her mouth twitches and then suddenly she snorts and cracks up laughing.

Yup. Definitely stoned.

"Oh my god Q. What about that little speech about doing homework? Or did you light up while I was getting changed?" I took a deep breath and couldn't smell anything untoward. Just the usual smells of carpet and upholstery cleaner. Quinn just keeps giggling at me. I have no idea how she could have held it in for this long if she'd been high when I arrived.

Finally she calms down enough to wipe at her eyes and actually speak, "I have some brownies in the kitchen. You want some?"

I'm completely gob smacked. "Where the fuck did you get hash brownies Quinn Fabray?"

"I lived with Puck while I was pregnant remember? He took me on one of his pickups once and I kept the contact. I wasn't smoking anything then obviously or even last year. But I decided to give it a try over the summer. Mr Ryerson was pretty sympathetic of my plight as teen mom statistic with a new attitude."

"Ryerson?" that means that it's going to be some pretty good stuff, and relatively safe. "Yeah I'll take some Fabray." I know I can't have too much because on top of the alcohol I'd be fucked. But a little extra buzz could be good right now.

Quinn leaves the movie running as she leads me back into the kitchen. There on the kitchen bench was a plate I had managed to miss when I was in here before. A veritable tower of chocolate brownies. We both brought our drinks so neither of us hesitate to sit down at the breakfast bar. True fact about Quinn Fabray: she can bake. She can bake, cook, clean and keep house like the good little Stepford Wife-to-be she is. Although, I cant help but wonder if that's all still on the cards considering her recent change in attitude.

I gingerly pick up one of the chocolate creations.

Oh. My. God.

I refuse to let out the orgasmic groan that threatens to escape me as I take my first bite of Brownie. Quinn has surpassed herself. "Damn Q, I knew we kept you around for something."

Quinn is already half way through her own brownie so she is talking through a mouthful of chocolate mush when she asks, "Are you going to tell me why you're here Santana? Britt got you in the doghouse? What have you done this time?"

I'm ready to snap at her and tell her that she doesn't know what she's taking about but I resist the impulse. Quinn must have known about me Brittany's...relationship and she had always just ignored it. I realised now that that was her way of...accepting us. She never said anything to us or to anyone else. She'd told Coach Sylvester about my boob job to get her spot back at the top of the pyramid but she had never used what she knew about me and Brittany. Not that Coach would have cared. I'm pretty sure she's know for nearly as long as Q has. But Quinn could have gossiped with the rest of the squad, with the football team and ruined us. But she didn't. I now realise how grateful I am for that.

So now that Quinn is talking to me about my relationship with Brittany as though it's perfectly normal and just part of our day I decide to answer her honestly. "I'm not in the doghouse. Not really, we just...aren't ready for," I search for the least awkward word to use. "intimacy. Yet." yeah still awkward.

Quinn looks at me like I've just said the stupidest thing imaginable, "What do you mean not ready? You two have been screwing like rabbits since we were fifteen."

I roll my eyes, really not wanting to elaborate, "Yeah Q, I know _that_ obviously and that's what makes this really fucking hard," I glance around avoiding eye contact again. "I mean that after everything that happened with Britt and The Legless Wonder plus me and Karofsky, we aren't back to being what we were." I hesitate again, shoving a brownie in my mouth to avoid looking at Quinn. "And you know what Q, we aren't going back to how we were cause," and I literally can't believe these words are about to come out of my mouth. "I was fucking miserable then. Screwing around with guys. Watching Brittany mack on with other people and pretending that it didn't hurt. It was horrible." I took a deep calming breath.

Quinn nods solemnly as she picks up another brownie and offers the plate to me—probably just for something to do. "So you're in love with her."

It's not a question but I nod anyway, taking another brownie.

She's smiling now and I can actually feel fucking years in my eyes. God I've turned into such a sucker. I need to take this conversation back NOW.

"So what about you Q? Any future ex-husbands in the wood work?" I feel like I need to see some sign that Brittany could be right about Quinn's pressed lemon, unicorn theory.

She hesitates before answering, "No, there's no one 'in the wood work'" She actually uses air quotes as she mimics me. The gender neutrality of the statement gives me small pause but I really need more. "So what happened to that skateboarder?"

She gives me a scornful look, "Come on S you know as well as I do that not all rumors are true."

"Yeah I do. I also know as well as anyone that sometimes the rumors are completely true." Just the thought of that muckraker article headline still makes my stomach tighten.

"Yeah I guess you do. But Jimmy was just a friend."

"A grinding, hot sex kind of friend?"

She rolls her eyes, "No. More like, he taught me not to be such a fucking pussy type friend actually. He had an...interesting philosophy on life. We hung out, got stoned a lot. That's all."

"But you had sex a lot?"

"Jesus Christ Santana. Do you want to hear what I learned from him?," I nod, cause why not right. "I learned that being smart or super pretty or even any kind of sane doesn't matter in the end."

"When were you any kind of sane?" I shouldn't have said that but it's too late now so I'm sticking with it. Quinn's arching up ready for a throw down but I cut her off. "So the point is that you weren't seeing anyone of the summer?" she cools down almost immediately. Thank fuck for those brownies.

"Nope." She let the end of the word out with a pop. I'm totally thrilled with monosyllabic answers. Really.

"And you aren't seeing anyone now?"

"Why do you care so much Santana?"

I've realised that I'm going to have to just dive in if I'm going to do this. I just can't seem to work this Quinn out. She's a complete mystery to me which basically means that I have no chance of manipulating her. And if I'm about to get blunt, I'm going to need more alcohol.

I Finnish the drink I've been cradling and rush out to the living room to grab the vodka and orange juice. Mean Girls is still playing and I have to laugh as the gym teacher tells everyone that they will get chlamydia and die if they have sex.

Quinn is waiting with one eyebrow raised as I rush back into the kitchen. I refill my drink and hers, taking a big gulp. I wince because I've pretty much pored more vodka than orange into my glass.

I don't know where she gets her fucking patience from because she asked me a question like five minutes ago and I still haven't answered it.

I take a deep breath and look directly into her eyes. I probably shouldn't have done that but I power forward anyway.

"Quinn."

"Santana."

"Don't be a smart-ass."

"Stop being a weirdo."

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"I'm getting that."

I take another drink and shudder at the alcohol. It's good though as I feel a little calmer. "Brittany feels..." I'm staring intently into my glass hunting for the right words. "Britt thinks itwouldbe a goodideaforus tohavesex." I rush it out as though it would hurt less.

"Come again?"

I smirk at the unintended pun, "That's what she said?"

Quinn snorted and then giggled. This set me off in my own bout of giggles. Suddenly we're both laughing so hard we can barely breath. We're clutching at each other, trying to stay upright on the high chairs were sitting on without tipping them over. We laugh for ten minutes straight. Every time we start to get calmed down we make eye contact and just start laughing again.

Finally, we've exhausted ourselves so our chuckles are just coming in short, intermittent bursts. I finally manage to get out a few words, "So what do you say?"

Quinn sighs leisurely, "About what?"

"About Brittany's idea."

"What idea?"

"That we should have sex."

"Well of course you and Brittany should have sex if that's what you want."

"No Fabray. You and I should have sex." I gesture between the both of us to make myself clear. Suddenly Quinn looks very sober.

"What the fuck Santana?"

"Hey I'm just relaying a message."

"I can't fucking believe you Santana. After everything you've been through this year?"

"Look Punk Princess Barbie. Would you halt the hostility? I'm trying to open up a dialogue here," Quinn rolled her eyes but Santana ignored her and continued. "whether I like it or not Q, you are all kinds of hot in this new..." I gesture to her general physical self. "look or whatever. Britts thinks that it would be an excellent idea for us to cut through all our bullshit and get our sexy on. Together. And as shudder inducing as the prospect sounds in principle, you know just as well as I do that what Brittany wants, Brittany gets."

Quinn is still fuming quietly but I know that she's listening so I continue, "We've always had some mad chemistry Q. Remember that fight we had after you told coach about my surgery? That fight's going down in the history books at McKinley. The stuff of legends. And not cause it was some cat fight. It's cause it was us. And we are both hot bitches." I don't even know what I'm saying anymore but Quinn hasn't interrupted me yet. "So if we can just skip some of that angsty crap and take some sexual scissors—no pun intended—to the tension in the room? You _know_ that shit is going to be hot." I'm on a roll. It's completely amazing that Quinn hasn't slogged me yet. "And since neither of us can be with who we want to be with..." I shrug as if to say 'a' plus 'b' equals hot sex.

Quinn looks up at this, "Wait wait wait. What do you think I'm still into Finn? No freaking way. After dumping me at a freaking funeral. I'd rather die."

"Finnept? No way—and don't think I'm not ecstatic that you're over the Jolly Green Giant—but no not who I was talking about," at this point the alcohol has completely removed the filter between brain and mouth. "I'm waiting for Brittany and you're waiting for Berry. I don't _personally_ get the whole hobbit fetish but each to their own cause—faaark!" and Quinn has put me to the floor.

One minute I'm on my chair thinking everything is under control and then Fabray loses it. Not that I can't appreciate the urge to slap someone down but jesus, that bitch could have killed me. As it is, she's seriously knocked the wind out of me. And falling from a high bar stool to tiles: fucking hurts.

"What the hell Santana? I mean seriously? You seriously think I've got the hots for...for...God!" She's practically screeching at me as I try to scramble to my feet. My years of falling from various levels of the pyramid has given me a certain tolerance for being winded so I'm able to gain my balance relatively quickly. But not before Quinn has lined up her arm for a full slap. And it is on like fucking Donkey Kong. I'm not normally an angry drunk but this bitch is making tonight an exception.

She's shoved me into he kitchen cabinet by the door and I decide that we should probably move this particular tussle away from kitchen implements. Knives, pans and electrical good do not a good fistfight make. And this is a fistfight. Like full bodied. I grab Quinn and drag her out of the kitchen, doing my best to hurl her into the next room. Lucky for me all of my fat joke and calling her tubbers and stretch marks is just talk and the girl is light as a feather. Just like me, she's all lean muscle and bone. She hits the floor but rolls away before I can jump on top of her. She slaps me across the face and I shove her in the chest.

"Just face it Q. You're all kinds if hot and bothered for Berry and there is nothing that you would like more than to get her naked and—" she makes a lunge at me and pushes me into the wall. We're stuck in the hallway outside the kitchen so it's a short few steps for me to shove her against the opposite wall.

She is seriously pissed but the tone and volume of her voice has mercifully lowered, "You really don't know what you're talking about Lopez."

"Oh please, you wants under that tiny skirt and that's why you're such a fucking bitch."

We're nearly at a standstill, both exhausted with our arms locked. Neither of us can manage to throw off the other and we're breathing hard.

"Just because _you_ couldn't deal with the fact that your a lesbian and had to hide it for so many years _doesn't_ mean that every bitch in the hallways is repressed Santana!"

"And just because you went off the deep end and decided to change everything about your personality over the summer _doesn't _mean that me and B don't still know you Quinn."

Suddenly the fight goes out of both of us and we slump to the floor. We're both breathing heavily and I can feel a bruise coming up on my jaw. And my tail bone. It makes me feel a little better that I can see a bruise coming up on Quinn's left temple. She also has a split lip. We stare at each other, each waiting for the other to speak first.

I clear my throat. She opens her mouth. I stop. She stops.

"Sorry I was a bitch," We both say together. We smile. Then she giggles. And suddenly we're both laughing so hard our ribs could crack under the strain of it. We're both still slightly tangled so when I fall towards the floor Quinn just comes with me, her head landing on my shoulder. We're still chuckling, lying on our backs and I'm trying to catch my breath. My breath eventually starts to slow down and I find myself staring at the patterns in the ceiling.

The house is Quiet except for the low hum of the television in the living room. I can hear both of us breathing softly and suddenly I want nothing more than to sleep for a few hours. I'm lying on my back and It's surprisingly comfortable on the thick rug that runs the length of the hall. Quinn shuffles next to me so that she is lying on her side so her head resting comfortably on my shoulder and her arm is thrown over my waist. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and interlace my fingers with hers where they rest on my waist.

Ours is a complicated relationship.

Quinn is the first to speak again, "Does it really seem like I'm crushing on Rachel?"

I notice again the way that Quinn says 'Rachel'. It really does feel kind of...loving.

I try to choose my words carefully but the intoxicants in my bloodstream make it difficult to be anything other than blunt. Hell being _Me_ makes it difficult to be anything other than blunt, "I think that you have been in a passionate relationship with Rachel Berry for a long time Q," she nods into my shoulder. "And I think that the way that you look at her, and the way that you treat her..." I can't remember where I was going with this but I think of Brittany when I continue, "I think that when you're ready...You could be happy with her." She nods again but when I glance down I see that her eyes are closed and her breathing has slowed down. She's asleep.

I let my own eyes close and pray that shit won't get weird when we wake up

* * *

><p>I promise. Sexy times are on their way :)<p> 


	3. Short Drunken Update

I wake up and my head is killing me. My left shoulder is also kind of numb. I figure Brittany must have fallen asleep on me. I curse myself for letting that happen because every time something like that happens Britt puts the breaks on and we're back to all cautious friend zone like a couple if eleven year olds. Something isn't quite right though. I'm not lying on a bed and the weight on my shoulder isn't quite as familiar as it should be. I open my eyes carefully. Thankfully it's still night so I don't have to deal with sunlight piercing my brain via my eyeballs.

I glance at the blonde head that's resting on my shoulder and I stiffen. I realise why it didn't feel right. The weight of her head isn't the same as Brittany's. Her smell isn't the same as Brittany's. The sound of her steady breathing is different from Brittany's. The blonde hair is liberally tinged with a bright pink. The girl lying against my side on the floor of a deserted hallway isn't Brittany. It's Quinn Fabray. And a few hours ago I was drunk, stoned and propositioning her for sex. Oh and we got into a fist fight over Rachel Berry. God, that just sounds sooooo wrong it actually hurts. Or that might just be the hangover. Which is splitting my head open.

I give her a gentle nudge to wake her up, "Q. Q wake up. Q you needs to get off me cause I have to pee something chronic." Quinn grumbles adorably as her eyes flutter open...That is to say she grumbles...like a...farm animal of some sort. Yeah that's it. "Quinn you have to wake up and we have to either find a bed or more alcohol because I don't think I can deal with anything that's going on right now. Not in any kind of conscious state."

Finally Quinn seems to become aware of what's happening. I imagine she just went through a similar situation that I did and I wonder who she thought she was sleeping on. I still have my doubts about that skateboard guy. She pulls her arm from around my waist and sits up. She slides herself back towards the wall and stares at me. I can almost see the events of some hours ago flash across her face. She lifts her hand up to her left temple and winces at the bruise there. This causes her to then wince at the split in her lip. I'm still pretty proud of that one.

"Jesus S, you should see your face."

I nod, "I imagine it looks a little like yours?"

She gives a wry chuckle before getting to her feet. I watch her stand, wondering if she's about to Hulk Out on me again. She doesn't. Instead she lowers her hand to help pull me to my feet. I stumble into an upright position, wincing at my bruised coccyx. And of course the general pains from falling asleep on the floor. I wasn't joking about the needing to pee thing so I smile a thanks at Quinn and rush off towards the bathroom. I can't help the gasp that escapes me when I flick on the light and see my face.

Godfucking dammit, I look worse than Quinn and that is _not _cool. The bruise on my jaw looks way more impressive than the one that graces Fabray's temple. Plus there's a bloody split in my eyebrow that might even leave a scar. A scar could look pretty fierce so I'm not pissed about being disfigured or whatever but I am pissed that it looks like I came out second best to Quinn Fabray.

It's gonna do some serious damage to my rep. Even more that that scrimmage I had with Zises last year. Damn that hippo had a strong fucking arm. I got away with being beat in that match cause Zises is like six times my body weight and a wrestling champion. But going down to Fabray is just not on. Although the fact that she's all...skankified now could work. I swear those girls have some mad Jedi mind tricks or something. They're seriously scary. I try not to think about my face and return my attention to my bladder.

By the time I get my business done in the bathroom Quinn is tapping at the door. "Come on Santana, don't make me walk up those stairs. My back is killing me and I really just wanna pee and go to sleep." Okay, so maybe my rep can remain intact. I just need to get Quinn saying shit like that on tape. Or come to think of it just a confession about Quinn's new found lust for Berry would be worth it's weight in gold.

I fling the door open and glare at the blonde on the other side. "Jesus Q. Can't you hold your fucking horses for like ten seconds?"

She just glares at me and pushes past me into the bathroom. I chuckle as I make my way back into the hallway and toward the kitchen. I'm on the hunt for an icepack of some description. I'm not entirely sure at this point how bruising works but as far as I know, ice is good. I open the freezer and come up nix for a a soft cold pack. I go for the next best thing, grabbing an ice tray and tipping the cubes into a tea towel. I rest it gingerly against my jaw where I know the bruise is turning some pretty amazing colours.

When Quinn gets out of the bathroom, she takes a shortcut grabbing a bag of peas and wrapping them in another tea towel from a drawer to press against her temple. She smiles at me ruefully. We both know that we did this to each other. We needed to blow off steam and this is how it came out. Blackened eyes and jaws. Broken skin and blooming bruises. We both know that it was exhilarating. We both know that we needed it.

Unfortunately I have to face Sue on Monday and that is so not cool. I try not to think about that. Hopefully I'll be able to cover up any bruising with makeup. The ice is melting into the towel pressed to my face and making an icy path down my arm. I shiver once before throwing my makeshift icepack into the sink.

"I don't know about you Q, but I really just need to go back to sleep," Quinn nods her agreement and tosses her bag of peas back into the freezer, towel and all.

After a long drink drawn directly from the tap I make my way out to the living room. I automatically shot off the TV. It's just the DVD screen saver bouncing around the screen, throwing a blue light across the room. Quinn switches off the kitchen and then the hallway lights. We're thrown into almost complete darkness. The only light left is cast by the lamps on the street. I lay down on the couch, throwing a cushion under my head.

My eyes are adjusted enough to see Quinn navigate around the coffee table. She hesitates for only a moment before lying down next to me on the couch. Her back is to my front and I wrap one arm around her waist. She reaches behind me to grab a blanket from the back of the couch to throw over both of us. She snuggles back into me and I bury my face into her hair. Her shampoo smells nice and I find it both comforting and familiar. She says goodnight and I murmur the same as I fall asleep with Quinn Fabray in my arms


	4. Propositions

So waking up in the morning with a slender blonde—or pinkish, whatever—girl in my arms isn't exactly terrible. If Quinn had stirred at any point before I woke up I didn't notice. She's so still and breathing steadily so I have to assume she's still asleep. She's facing away from me so I'm essentially spooning against her back. Or she's spooned against my front. Either way I'm the big spoon so I lean up carefully to try and check that her eyes are still closed. Very, very gently I pull the arm that's under her neck back so I can peer over her shoulder.

My heart nearly stops when I glance down to see hazel eyes staring back at me. For one crazy moment I think that she might be asleep with her eyes open. But that would be ridiculous and unbelievably creepy and thankfully she is talking to me before my thoughts can run any further.

"Morning San"

I have no fucking clue what to say to that, "Um, morning?"

"What?"

Oh, so she's going to be playing innocent then. "Well," I draw out the word. "Do you remember, um last night?" She turns over a little in my arms so I can see her face fully.

She's wearing a thoughtful expression when she says, "Hmmm. Last night? Last night? Oh right," I resist the urge to roll my eyes as she smirks at me. "Do you mean last night when you propositioned me for sex, accused me of having some kind of secret hard-on for Rachel Berry and then proceeded to give me a black eye _and_ a split lip? Nope can't remember a thing." She's wearing a particularly smug smirk.

Lucky for me she is at a distinct disadvantage in her proximity to the edge of the couch. One solid shove sends her rolling off the edge and onto the floor. I quickly follow her over the edge so I can take full advantage of my surprise attack. She's landed on her back and I grab both her wrists in my hands and pin them into the carpet above her head. I straddle her hips with my knees clenched tightly against her ribs. She can't move and she doesn't try to. She just smirks up at me with that damn fucked-if-I-care look in her eyes.

I glare down at her ready to lay down some home truths, "Okay, let _me_ tells you how things went down last night since you seem to have developed a certain _selective_ memory. You," I gave a slight pause for effect. "Pushed me off of a goddamned chair. I wouldn't be surprised if the base of my spine isn't half way to technicolour by now. It was also you," I force her to look into my eyes and try not to get distracted by the incredible green colour in them. "Who cuddled up to me on the floor after our little...altercation in which you gave me this lovely souvenir on my jaw. It was also _you_ that decided to spoon into _me_ on that couch last night."

She continued looking bored. "Are you done Santana?"

I feel my eyebrows crease in the middle and make a determined effort to smooth it out. "You know what Q, I am about one Berry sized moment away from dropping your ass with the skanks and forgetting about you all together."

"And why's that? Am I too much for you to handle?" She puts on a sultry expression I've never seen on her before and wriggles her hips under me.

_Oh my God._

That wriggle with that sultry little twist to her lips is my fucking undoing. The friction she just created against me as I lean my hips into hers spikes a thrill of sensations through my core and up my spine. Now I can solemnly _swear_ that I have no interest in any kind of...sexual dominance scenario—in fact Britt manages to top me as often as not—but in this moment I am incredibly turned on. Holding her hands above her head and pinning her down with my body, it's doing things to me. I'm also absolutely mortified. I consider relenting and letting her go. But only for a moment because then I see Quinn's eyes flutter and a hint of a blush climbs up her cheeks.

Quinn Fabray has a blush spreading across her face and it is a direct result of being pinned underneath _me_.

I try to keep my cool, resisting the urge to just grind myself into her. _It's been a _long _four months._ Quinn has collected herself enough for her cheeks to be clear of that blush but she has already given herself away and her eyes are still dark. With this in mind I lean into her a little further pressing my upper body into hers. She holds her breath as I bend down to whisper into her ear, "You know they say that people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones Q," I let my breath blow hot against her neck and I feel a small gasp of air escape her lips as I continue. "And you were looking awfully transparent just now."

She's breathing heavily now and I can feel her every breath as her chest moves against mine. I'm pressed heavily against her and there is a delicious friction between our bodies. Neither of us is wearing a bra and I can feel her nipples brushing against me just as mine are brushing against her.

She makes no move to push me off and remains silent so I decide to test our new boundaries as I start whispering low into her ear again, "You know you never gave me an answer last night Q," I let my lips brush against the shell of her ear and she swallows audibly. "in regards to my little...proposition. I still need to know where you stand in regards to our potential—" I'm forced to pause as a tiny movement in Quinn's upper body draws a gasp from both of us. I try to focus on my words as I continue "I need to know if you want this Q." I take a gamble and let go of her wrists as I press my lips into the skin below her neck.

I wait for a response. I give her the chance to push me away. She remains perfectly still. It's not an invitation but neither is it a refusal. I kiss against her neck again, this time pushing out the tip of my tongue to taste her skin before my lips claim her neck again in a gentle caress. I move my lips back to her ear and husk out my next words, trying to disguise my own arousal as much as possible, "Do you want this Quinn Fabray?" I've drawn my hands down Quinn's arms and now rest them on either side of her rib cage. "Because you already know my position on the matter," I roll my hips ever so slightly to emphasise my words. "But now I need something from you," I murmur huskily

I wait for a response again. Again nothing happens. Until slowly, very slowly Quinn's arms are moving back towards her body. I feel her fingers twine into my hair and I'm forced once again to resist grinding into her because the feeling of her fingers in my hair is amazing. I remain perfectly still, waiting for her to make the next move. She forces my head up , just a little so that my face is above hers and I'm looking into her eyes as she give the slightest, almost imperceptible nod.

My heart leaps and it's enough of an affirmation for me as I claim her lips with my own. It's a heated close mouthed kiss that is nothing close to chaste. Her hands are tangled up in my hair pressing me hard into her and we both groan as I force my hands down her sides and under her body to press into the small of her back. I was aiming for her ass but something about the way my body is awkwardly leaning into hers is so stimulating that we're both forced to stop kissing, stop moving and just stare into one another's eyes. We're both completely blown away by what is happening and just how amazing it feels.

And then we hear it. There are fucking keys rattling at the front door.

I leap off of Quinn in an instant and practically launch myself over the couch. I throw myself up the stairs three at a time and it occurs to me that this could be a ridiculous response to the situation but then I realise that Quinn is right next to me as I fling myself through her bedroom door. Quinn closes the door silently behind her and stares at me in complete panic.

_Who the fuck is that downstairs?_ I mouth at her silently across the room. My hand gestures are huge and would be comical if not for the seriousness of the situation.

_I don't fucking know!_ Quinn mouths back at me with equally grandiose arms.

They pause the instant they hear a voice ringing up the stairs. "Quinnie! I'm just grabbing some mail your mother left for me okay? I'll be out of your hair in a second. Quinnie?"

_Oh my Fucking God. It's Russell Fucking Fabray._

Quinn's face is a mask of shock and she turns an incredible rosy colour as she registers what her _father _had almost caught them doing. My eyes are wide as I try to get her attention. She needs to go down there. Now. I'm about to try expressing this to her when suddenly all of the colour drains from her face. My heart nearly stops and I feel a chill run down my spine, reacting to the sheer panic in her face.

She whimpers and turns to me with wide eyes, "The vodka."

_Oh my God. _"The brownies."

She get impossibly whiter and then a peculiar green tinges her cheeks. She looks like she's going to be sick. Her panic causes something in me to harden slightly and my brain whirrs back into action. I grab her by the shoulder. I can hear her father on the stairs which means we have about 5 seconds to respond.

I give her a quick shake whispering hurriedly into her ear. It's a sharp contrast to the seductive words I was breathing into her ear downstairs. "You have to snap out of it Q and act like a normal human being. We just had a sleep-over. That's all he needs to know. A sleep-over just like any other. He just walked in the house which means he hasn't seen the kitchen yet. Now in about 2 seconds I am going to open that door and you are going to greet your father and act like everything is fine and normal. You will distract him and I will go downstairs and hide everything incriminating."

I don't have any time to see if my words have sunk in because I can hear the floor boards creak just outside Quinn's bedroom. I fling open the door.

"Oh hello Mr Fabray, didn't expect to see you here. Me and Q had a sleep over last night and I'm just about to make breakfast if you want anything." I say all of this at a million miles an hour and then rush past the tall blonde man without waiting for a response.

I hear Quinn stammer a greeting and I hope for the best as I sprint down the stairs taking them even quicker than when I had gone up them. I get to the kitchen and thank whatever higher power that may be behind us for sending Russell up the stairs and not into the kitchen because it looks seriously incriminating in here. Both the bar chairs that sit at the breakfast bar are tipped over. The vodka is on proud display with two glasses sitting beside it. Those fucking brownies are right next to those. While not incriminating on sight, Quinn and I would both have been screwed if Russell had decided to try some of Quinn's special baking efforts.

I quickly straighten the chairs and then shove the vodka bottle, glasses and the plate of brownies under the sink. I wipe down the benches as quickly as I can and then grab the eggs out of the fridge in the hopes of maintaining some kind of illusion that I would be cooking breakfast. As if I know how to cook.

I can hear Quinn coming down the stairs with her father and I grabbed a recipe book to try and look busy. Bits if their conversation are reaching me. I don't actually know what kind of relationship they have anymore. I doubt they could be too close since Russell Fabray is now living the cliche across town in an apartment with his secretary.

The voices fade in and out as Quinn argues with her father by the front door "You know I don't approve of that girl Quinn and—...Justified now that I see what you've—...Your hair and your clothes—...I should have sent you to that boarding school when I had the chance—"

Quinn cut him off, "Santana doesn't have anything to do with my—...for months—...Just because Mom has decided to—..."

Quinn's voice is low and furious and I don't need to hear anything more to know that Russell won't be winning this argument. I watch proudly as Quinn squares up to her father, pointing one finger into his chest. He looks—not necessarily scared since Quinn is, like a foot shorter than him and weighs about as much as a baby bird but—startled that his little girl who used to cower under his intimidating glares was now staring him down with such ferocity. I doubt I have the balls to stand up to my father the way that she is doing right now.

Finally she picks up a stack of envelopes from the low table beside the front door and shoves them into his chest. "I'm sure you can let yourself out." She gives him a contemptuous glare and the stalks towards the kitchen. I resist the urge to wave cockily at Russell who looks like he is about ready to blow a gasket. He opens the front door and steps through it. Quinn's shoulders are strong as she walks towards me but the instant she hears the door click she crumples into herself and bursts into tears.

I rush forward, just in time to catch her before she falls to the floor, wracked with bone rattling sobs. I wrap my arms around her and guide her to the floor, knowing that I won't be able to hold her up for very long. She slumps against me and cries her heart out and I have no idea what to do. So I do what I know Brittany would do if she was here. I hold Quinn close to me and run my fingers through her hair. I make quiet shushing noises and promise her that everything will get better soon.


	5. Keep An Eye On Her

Despite how it started, Sunday was an uneventful day. There was no making out, no sex and the cuddling left me needing to wring my shirt out. Because of tears. Nothing sexy.

We polished off the rest of those brownies and Quinn cuddled into my body on the couch. I knew that I was unimportant in that moment. Quinn just needed someone to hold. And despite popular opinion I am not a completely heartless bitch so I did the only thing I could do. I held her while she cried and occasionally murmured incomprehensible things about abandonment and having no one who loved her and yadda yadda. I spent the day watching whatever was saved on on the TV digital recorder and occasionally saying things like _Of course we love you_ and _You're better than that old bastard who calls himself your father_.

It was getting pretty painful but eventually her tears stopped and we were able to talk. She didn't want to talk about her plethora of emotional issues and I didn't want to ask about them so we talked about silly inconsequential things like TV, school and even the goddamned weather.

When morning turns into afternoon and evening, we're tempted to resume our vodka consumption but now that it's Sunday night we both agree that I should just go home. Judy would be gone for weeks longer yet so we would have plenty of chances to...well, you know. We avoid discussing last night and downright ignore what happened this morning. It's just safer that way.

We say our goodbyes at the door and pretend to be normal people for a few moments.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow at school," I say.

"Yeah, I guess so," She says.

"Yeah, we have math," I say as I gesture unnecessarily to my bag which may or may not contain my math text book.

"Yup," She nods.

"So okay," I lean forward to hug her.

She accepts and we hold each other tightly. It's the most real thing we've _not_ said to each other all day.

"Tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow."

"Hey Quinn?"

"Yeah San."

"Call me if you need me?"

"I will. I promise."

I smile and pull my car keys out of my pocket as I approach the driveway.

"Hey San?" she calls out and I turn to face her. She remains in her doorway.

"Yeah, what?" I ask.

"Thanks."

I give a curt nod and climb into my car. I turn the keys in the ignition and pull out into her street.

Half way home I pull over onto the median strip. I'm literally parked on top of a No Parking sign but I really don't give a shit. I burst into tears.

– –

The 5am Cheerios practices are kicking my ass. I had not nearly enough sleep last night and it's showing.

"Get it together Slopez," The thick voice of Becky Jackson grates on my nerves as she rides past my group of Cheerios on the back of Sue's golf buggy.

Sue tweaks the volume on her loud voice...thrower thing—_fuck I'm tired—_for maximum volume before screaming into it, "Get a move on Sandbags. I expect you to have these sagging, miserable excuses for cheerleaders at the other end of this track in the next 8 seconds or you will be running wind sprints till Tuesday. Your weekend sexploits are no excuse for not completing my training regimes to the minute."

I grit my teeth and stretch out further. I know that we're running completely to the second of Coach's training schedule. I also know that she's testing me. I can feel Brittany right by my side. With her long legs, she could easily outrun me but she stays by my side. She's never felt the need to beat anyone at anything. She doesn't need to compete against other people to feel good about herself. It's one of the many things that I love about her. I concentrate on her long, pale legs instead of the pain searing through my own. I make it to the other end of the track in six seconds instead of eight, allowing for the last Cheerio to reach the end in time. That Cheerio is now puking her guts out along with at least three others.

Cheerios practice is truly brutal. I try to not let my knees quiver as I resist the urge to double over and retch. I'm really not feeling my best but I can't let it show. It's not like I could just explain that I'd spent the weekend with an emotionally crippled Quinn Fabray. That I'd exhausted myself crying into my pillow because supporting Quinn through the opening salvos of her Gay Panic brought up the plethora of issues that have been tearing my own heart apart. That holding Quinn as she bawled her eyes out over her father's abandonment and her own miserable love life made me want to crawl into my mother's arms like I was four years old again. I couldn't tell anyone any of that, not even Brittany because I'm almost certain that she would want to talk about all that emotional crap and I'm just not ready for any of it.

We're nearing the end of training which means there is about twenty minutes until the bell rings for the start of first period.

"My elderly Great Aunt Petunia could run faster than that, you bunch of Pricecut Commercial rejects," Sue continues to rant through her...whatever the fuck you call that thing.

I have to scoff at the Pricecut comment. It was somewhat sub par considering Sue's usual jibes. So either we actually impressed her just a little. Or she's stressing over something else and not really paying attention. I'm guessing the second when I see her glance towards the bleachers.

I follow her gaze and see someone moving in the shaddows where the Skanks usually hang out. I hadn't heard anything from Quinn last night, I wasn't expecting to and I can't see who is under there now so I return my attention to Coach Sylvester as she switches off her um...megaphone. _Megaphone, that's it!_

She stops just a few feet away from me. She's so tall that I have to crane my neck to look into her eyes but it doesn't bother me anymore. "Keep an eye on Q will you Chesty LaRou," I can't hide my shock at Sue's statement even as Brittany steps up to stand at my side and she continues with, "You too young Portia DeRossi. See if you can't keep Stretch Marks from getting herself expelled before the end of the school year"

Again, I'm forced to marvel at the level of lame in Coach's insults today. I can only assume that maybe she really is worried about Quinn. Either that or she's discovered some new kind of slow release stinking agent and she's trying to think of a way to sneak it into Mr Shue's hair products.

Brittany glanced at the bleachers before looking back at me and then to Coach. "We're all over it Coach. Q's always been one of us."

Coach squints at Brittany as though looking for some hidden meaning in her statement. She's obviously found one when she replies, "Please don't _ever_ discuss your depraved sex acts whilst in my presence. What you three get up to on your own time is of absolutely no consequence to me. Unless you somehow feel that your bedroom gymnastics could contribute to the Cheerios' success?"

Brittany looks as utterly confused as I feel, "Err, no?"

"I didn't think so," she shoves the megaphone into my chest and stalks away, Becky at her heals.

I take this as a dismissal and order the Cheerios to hit the showers. The ones that aren't passed out in the grass nod dumbly before kicking their unconscious teammates awake and stumbling back to the locker rooms.

– –

When I emerge from the showers I can't help but glance into the shade under the bleachers. Brittany has already left for class and I need to move it if I want to get to class on time. Stupidly, I hesitate and before I know it my feet are leading me under the bleachers. I'm greeted by the smell of weed as my eyes slowly adjust to the dense shade.

Quinn is there as I expected as well as an (almost)good looking girl I've heard is known as Mack. Fucked if I know what her actual name is but the fact that I know even her nickname is testament to the fact that I have been at this school for too fucking long. The two girls are sitting on a beaten up old sofa which seems to be a new addition since the last time I was here.

Both girls look up as I approach. Mack glares at me as she lights up a joint. Quinn stands up to meet me.

"What are you doing here?" she seems genuinely put out by my presence and I'm a little hurt. It's stupid, but something about having a girl cry into your shoulder for like 6 hours straight makes you feel like maybe you'd bonded or something.

"Settle, petal. I come in peace. Just came to say hi," I explain lamely.

Quinn rolls her eyes spectacularly and I can't help but glare at her. I don't know why I'm there but here I am and it wouldn't kill her to at least be civil.

She's not, "Look Santana, you shouldn't be down here."

Mack pipes up from the couch, "Yeah, you would't want your high pony to get all mussed up."

My throat bobs in an embarrassingly cartoonish gulp. That girl is mildly terrifying, even half baked as she is.

"Come on Q, I thought we'd bonded or some shit." I know I'm reaching, just trying to get something other than an eye roll out of her.

"Please," Another eye roll makes me want to slap her. "A weekend doesn't change anything Santana. You still just don't get it."

"And what is it I'm supposed to get Q? That you're all kinds of badass now? You know that you've even got Coach Sue worried about you," I tell her without meaning to. "Who knew that Sue even had that bone in her head which told her someone could be in trouble." I let my eyes roam over her body as if to emphasize my point.

She's wearing skinny jeans today which, mercifully make her look slightly less homeless. Her pink hair is shoved under a loosely threaded beanie that has tufts of the pink pulled through some of the larger holes. She's showing less skin with a few more layers including a ripped, sleeveless jean jacket which I'm at least ninety percent sure came out of some old glee costume. I can't help but scoff at that one.

Her eyebrow arches at my light laugh and she throws her bag to the ground as her eyes narrow. Oh, hell yeah I am so up for a fight. My bag hits the ground next to Q's as my eyes flick to Mack who is now laid out on the couch with blunt in hand. She's watching us but I can see no indication that she would join in a throw down. I hope that Quinn is still enough of a Head Bitch that she would want to fight me one on one.

We stare each other down, speaking volumes through our eyes. Our little fist fight over the weekend is still fresh on my mind _and _on my face. The bruise on my chin isn't quite completely covered by my makeup and Coach had been less than impressed. Quinn doesn't look like she even tried to cover up the bruises on her face. I'm almost jealous when I realise that Quinn get to wear her war wounds with pride while I have to hide mine in shame.

Quinn breaks the silence, "And you're here to what Santana? Save me? Are you some kind of hero now flying in to rescue the damsel in distress? I don't think so. You need to leave now because I do not have time to beat you down right now." She looks over my shoulder as if to check if someone was there. I quickly double check that there isn't another one of the Skanks sneaking up behind me. There isn't.

Quinn's wearing her head bitch smirk now and so am I. We're both bent over slightly, ready to jump into a defensive crouch if either of us makes the first move. I move slightly to the left and she moves right. I'm ready to pounce on her and get this little confrontation underway when Quinn inexplicably straightens up and her features instantly soften. She's staring over my shoulder.

"Santana?" It's Rachel Freaking Berry. I turn around. _And she brought her knee socks._ "I wan't expecting to see you here. Are you here to get Quinn back into Glee Club as well?"

_Of course._

I glance at Quinn who refuses to meet my eye. A tiny shake of her head tells me not to say anything. Like I would tell Berry anything about what went down over the weekend. Or that I was about to get into a fistfight for the second time in two days. I step away from the pair.

I watch with something akin to morbid fascination as Rachel Berry in her Knee socks and vintage style, way too short for a 17 year old, navy blue dress approaches Quinn Fabray. It's like something straight off the nature channel as the baby gazelle with impossibly long legs approaches the watering hole only to be chomped down by some mother fucking crocodile.

I try not to think about Quinn eating Berry in any way and actually shudder slightly before focusing back on the exchange as the diminutive brunette ignores me and stares directly into Quinn's soul. That's what it looks like when Quinn looks back at her. She look almost afraid as she stands stock still. I wonder if this is how she acted the first time Berry came down here or if her attitude has changed with my presence.

I do my best to blend into my surroundings. Not necessarily easy to do when you're dressed in a a skin tight, fire engine red cheerleading outfit. Quinn glances at me once as I try to subtly shift myself off to one side, leaning against a concrete pillar.

"How are you Quinn?" Rachel's voice is so fucking earnest and she is still doing that soul staring thing.

Quinn relaxes. I watch her face as she morphs into yet another persona. The animosity is completely gone from her face and she's slipped into the cocky, rebel without a cause persona that I saw last time I was down here. But there is a new element. Quinn's eyes are softened, so much so that it kindof reminds me of pregnant Quinn when she would sit in class and rub her ginormous belly in slow, soothing circles. All of that softness is directed at Rachel and I now know that I will never ever doubt Brittany ever again. Fabray is completely in love with Rachel Berry.

Berry's mouth is moving and I realise that I had been tuning her out automatically. Like a self defense mechanism or something. I can see that Quinn is hanging on her every word and I make a determined effort to tune into what she is saying.

"Quinn, you really should have been here this week. We're developing this fantastic new sound with the way that everyone's voices have been maturing. I wish that you were a part of it, a part of our family again." I roll my eyes at the word family, wondering what kind of family kicked member out after one small bout of pyrotechnics. _Oh yeah, the Fabrays._

Quinn rolls her eyes but the move is lacking the usual spite and she quickly returns her gaze back to Rachel's face. More specifically Rachel's lips. _Jesus Fabray can you be any _less_ subtle._ Quinn gives Rachel a thorough eye fucking and I almost gag. It's too much. And some people seem to think that I'm obvious around Brittany? How can Rachel be oblivious to the way that Quinn looks at her? Oh right, she's completely self absorbed and completely in love with Finn ass-wipe Hudson.

The ridiculousness of that hits me again and I shift subtly so I can examine Rachel's face. She's still talking. Of Course. "Mr Shuester seems like he may actually be willing to discuss a set list for our Invitational now rather than a week before competition."

I tune out her words again. It frightens me only a little that it is so easy to tune her out after the past two years in Glee.

Her eyes are still painfully earnest but there is more there. I can read Q like a book even when she isn't being completely obvious but I've been impulsively ignoring Berry for so long that I have to work harder to understand her expressions. If Brittany were here she'd probably be able to tell me straight away. She's almost freaking psychic with knowing how people are feeling.

I stare even more intently, confident that Rachel—that is to say _Berry_—is completely unaware of me at this point. Her entire focus is on the silent girl in front of her. Quinn is just staring at her, subtly adjusting her weight from one foot to the other as she allows her eyes to float over Berry's face, body, legs and every other expanse of skin that catches her attention.

I refuse to believe that Rachel—Berry—that Berry can be unaware of the way the Quinn is looking at her. Fucking hell, Quinn just bit her lip. Like actually fucking pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down with the corner of her front teeth. If that isn't a come hither, eye-sex look then I don't know what is.

My eyes shoot back to Berry as I hunt for some sort of sign, some kind of flicker of emotion that shows me what she feels about Quinn and her new eye-fucking ways. I'm still slightly baffled by how Quinn manages to pull off nonchalant, gentle, loving _and_ eye sexing all in the one expression. The girl's face is like one of those magic eye, optical illusion pictures. It's a vase, no wait it's two faces.

But I'm meant to be watching Rachel, who's—holy shit—subtly watching me. I thought I had managed to blend in. I'm pretty sure Quinn has forgotten I even exist since she's barely registered anything outside of Rachel Berry's orbit for at least five minutes. Somehow though, the Hobbit has been maintaining a quiet surveillance of me even as I watch her. I realise that I'm going to have to do something other than lean against a pole like it's the only thing keeping me upright if I want to witness anything relevant.

I take a deep breath and am glad when I hear my breath remain steady and strong. I approach the couch where Mack continues to watch the exchange.

"May I?" I try to sound polite even though it is completely outside my nature to be polite to _anyone._

With a small skeptical look Mack hands over the joint. I lift it to my mouth and breathe in but I don't keep it in my lungs for too long because, hey I still need to get to class at some point. I take a seat on the other end of the couch with my body facing away from the two other girls. Mack copies my relaxed posture, seemingly mollified by my participation in her smoke up.

It turns out that from this angle I can actually see Rachel's—Berry's—face more clearly than before. I hope it's not the weed talking when I see a flicker of something in Rachel's eyes. I curse both her and myself as I realise that Berry is actually a pretty good actress. She is covering herself very well.

I strain my peripheral vision and finally I see it.

Rachel is going on some rant about how Finnept is being lax in his co-captain duties and I see it. There is doubt in Berry's eyes and more than that there is a question for Quinn. A look that clearly states _if I say I want you will you make the risk worth it._

I am freaking beside myself. I can't say exactly why I care at all. Maybe it's the weed. I fight the urge to go over and hug and kiss the two girls. Yes, even Berry. I struggle to focus long enough on any one emotion and end up settling on glee since it is so damn fitting. I'm grinning so broadly that Mack is looking at me like I'm a lunatic.

I realise that I don't really need to see any more and I stand up from the couch. I offer Mack a small smile before a—undoubtedly amazing—view of my ass as I pick my bag up from the ground. I brush past Quinn and Rachel—fuck it, I'll use her real name— on my way to class.

I catch the last twenty minutes of first period and earn myself a lunch time detention. Whatever, not like I ever show up to detentions anyway. I'm Head Cheerio and that comes with responsibilities. Not to mention a coach that scares the bejesus out of almost every member of faculty.

– –

I have math in second period and I really hope that Quinn decides to turn up this time. She missed two classes last week. I'd be worried if I didn't know for certain that she was getting the homework done and generally learning as much out of class as I was in it.

Quinn saunters into class 5 minutes late, throwing the teacher that contemptuous look she's becoming famous for. I can't help but admire her approach even if I can't understand her reasoning. When the teacher sets us to revision I start an exchange of notes across our shared desk.

_Why was Berry there? You guys hooking up already?_ I'm deliberately provocative. I don't want Quinn to clam up and not respond.

_Not that it's your business but she has decided to come see me every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning until I rejoin Glee._

I read her note and quickly return my own. She rolls her eyes to my question: _Why those days?_

_Because she has a free period first up those mornings. She spends her study periods telling me why I should be singing and dancing instead of chilling out._

I hesitate for only a moment. I feel like she needs to know what I had seen that morning under the bleachers.

_She wants you Q. She just doesn't know if you'll make it worth her while._

Quinn takes the note and reads it once before rapidly pushing it into her bag. Her eyes shift around the room quickly to make sure no one is looking at them.

I draft another note. _So I'll see you at yours on Friday night then?_ I would have suggested tonight but Quinn was right when she said that College was the best path out of Lima. Britt's—now I could admit it—_Genius_ plan would have to wait for the weekend

* * *

><p>So I realise that my angsty Faberry may have be showing in this chapter. The next one is going to be all kinds of sexy though and it's already half written because it was going to be a part of this chapter but it all got too long. I'd love to know what you guys think of the chemistry between Quinn and Santana though. Is it believable? Is it ridiculous? Let me know.<p> 


	6. Minor Details

Friday snuck up on me. I can admit that. I'd stayed away from the bleachers. Quinn had continued to be absent from Glee. I had been allowed back into the club once I re-swore my allegiance. Brittany must have spoken to the rest of the club because I didn't receive any doubt or threats form any of them. I knew that Rachel was still visiting Quinn under the bleachers because I would see her heading that direction at the end of my Cheerios practices. I'm pretty sure Quinn will be wherever she can spend the most time with Rachel but I choose not to tell Rachel that just yet. I also neglect to inform her that Quinn would probably come back to Glee if she _stopped_ spending her free periods under the bleachers with the Skanks.

I'd had vague plans to derail Finn and Rachel's relationship. As it turns out, Finn is doing a fine job of it without my help just by being his usual ignorant self.

I found myself watching Quinn more often and this generally annoyed the crap out of me. Just like I had said to Quinn: What Brittany wants, Brittany gets. And Britts wanted me all up on Q. As much as I wanted to go back to ignoring Q in my obsessively vigilant way, I couldn't help the way that I watched her now. And by association the way that I watch Rachel Berry. Their glances are far from lingering and their contact is limited, but it seems those short hours beneath the bleachers are bringing them closer together at least as friends.

Seeing the hesitance in Rachel's eyes on Monday made me realise that Quinn would have to make the first move. Which means that I have to make the first move on Quinn. This is much easier said then done. I had obviously taken the initiative when I pinned Quinn to the floor last weekend but that had been a hormone fueled impulse. I had no more control over that action than Berry has control over her compulsive need to take over everything.

I try to rein in my Berry loathing as I press the buzzer at the Fabray front door. I really need to remember to ask Quinn about the whole Fabray/Maiden Name thing.

I'm pretty much expecting Quinn to just yell out to me like she did last week so I could let myself in. So when Quinn actually answers the door I'm momentarily frozen. It really doesn't help that Quinn is wearing next to nothing on the other side. She's switched up the hobo look for a short denim skirt and a torn up Tshirt. While the aesthetic is similar to what she has been sporting since school began, there are subtle but noticeable differences. She's left out the nose ring thank goodness but it looks like she's topped up the pink in her hair. It's more vibrant than when I'd seen her earlier.

Quinn's skirt is shorter than necessary and I can see that it's actually a high-end brand even though it's frayed at the edges. The Tshirt is made of a finer fabric than your standard band T and I can see that the rips and holes are much more deliberate and even hemmed to prevent further fraying. I have to wonder where she even found new clothes that so thoroughly matched her new Skank-Wear.

She clears her throat to distract me from my obvious perusal of her body.

"I'd say take a picture but I don't want to give you any ideas," she jokes as she gestures for me to come in.

I roll my eyes as I stalk past her to drop my bag in the living room. Quinn has hooked her laptop up to stream her music library through the stereo. The classic iTunes visualizer is swirling across the TV screen.

I hear Quinn close the front door and move towards the kitchen. I follow her hoping to get a start on that vodka I left behind last weekend. God knows this week has made me thirsty. Quinn is packing up her text books when I get into the kitchen. The bottle of vodka is already on the bench so I help myself to a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and grab two glasses from the cupboard.

"So how's things progressing with your Hobbit, Q?" I'm concentrating on pouring the vodka so I'm not facing Quinn but I can practically hear the eye roll.

"How's things progressing with Brittany," she stalls.

_Touché Fabray. _"I guess we won't be talking about it then?"

She shakes her head no as I hand her one of the now full glasses. She murmurs a thanks and takes a sip. "I'm starving so I think I'm gonna order a pizza. You in?" she asks, pulling her phone from a back pocket.

"Seriously Q? I'm still on the Cheerios remember? As in, if I consume any actual food I have to run for an extra six hours to make up for it."

"Please, I saw you down those Brownies last weekend. You have a natural metabolism that Kate Moss would envy."

I scoff but pull the offered take-out menu towards me. "Okay, fine but I'm not having any cheese on mine."

Quinn laughs and calls up the order of two Cheese Supreme pizzas with extra toppings delivered. One for her and one for me.

Sometimes I love that we speak the same language.

– –

We've already polished off three drinks a piece when the delivery guy rings the doorbell. Quinn and I wrestle behind the closed door to decide who will answer it. We're being deliberately childish and really it's pretty fun. I throw my elbow into Quinn's gut and she doubles over, giving me the chance to fling open the door. There's a pimply guy our age standing on the other side waiting with a bemused expression on his face. I'm extremely glad that he doesn't go to our school. Messing around with Quinn in private is one thing. Anyone at school knowing about it is entirely different.

Quinn recovers while I pay the guy and accept the pizza, handing one to her and cradling the other against my hip. The delivery guy looks at us skeptically. I know what he's thinking. Something along the lines of: _You guys eat?_ I give him a withering glare before slamming the door in his face. I didn't get Head Cheerio because I slack off. I am in incredible physical shape because I train almost constantly. An occasional cheesy indulgence doesn't change that.

Quinn tweaks the volume on the music to turn it up so we can feel the bass thumping through the floor boards. We're both getting pretty tipsy so the music has us both moving subtly to the beat. Quinn slides into one of the chairs at the breakfast bar and opens up the pizza box, not bothering to find a plate as she slides a piece out. I pour myself and Quinn a new drink before sitting down next to her.

"So how's Cheerios going?" Of course Quinn would try to strike up dinner conversation in the lamest way possible. It's undoubtedly part of her Stepford Wife programming that she can't allow any natural quiet to happen through dinner. Even when 'dinner' presents itself as fuckloads of cheese on round bread with a side of alcohol.

I decide to humor her. Maybe I can get her talking about this whole gay Fabray revelation. "It's pretty much the same kind of torture it's always been. Just a little more so since Coach is still punishing me for quitting after the whole trying to fire Brittany out of a canon thing. Did you know she's got me as co-captain with Becky?"

Quinn looks appropriately shocked.

I continue, "Yeah, I get to share duties with the chromosomally challenged now."

"Becky's alright," Quinn says with a shrug.

I look at her. "Yeah she's alright. For a devious and sneaky bitch. If it wasn't so damn politically incorrect I would have beat her ass weeks ago." Quinn looks mildly scandalized which is actually quite a feat since she has a mouth full of pizza and sauce smeared across her cheek. "Don't look at me like that Q," I laugh. "No really cause that's kind of disgusting. I feel like I'm eating with the cookie monster right now...except pizza."

Quinn tries to glare at me as she chews through the bread in her mouth. It's kinda hilarious. She looks like one of those squirrel animals storing nuts in its cheek.

"You know you're kind of a doof Fabray? How you ever got anyone to believe in your Queen of McKinley routine I'll never know. You've got zero game. You also have cheese on your face."

Quinn finally manages to swallow down the gob full of pizza. She grins at me and picks up her drink. "You know that's the thing I don't miss about being head Cheerio. It's like, the instant you're head bitch at that school everyone is watching you, just waiting for you to fuck up somehow. Whether its something ridiculous like being caught eating something other than salad. Or something big like..." Her eyes drift around the room as though searching for the best example.

I offer the obvious response she's missing, "Or like getting pregnant at sixteen?"

"Yeah like getting pregnant at sixteen," she agrees. "Or like being in love with you best friend in a big gay way."

Yeah, I guess I stepped into that one. "You don't want to be exchanging barbs on gay crushes with me Q."

Quinn tries to hide her blush in another mouthful of pizza. I can't help but grimace at the way she shoves nearly a whole slice into her mouth. Eventually, she's able to swallow and she sips at her drink before turning to me with a question, "So if we were to follow through with...Brittany's plan,"She wears a skeptical frown as she says Brittany's name. As though I had fabricated Britt's part in the plan. "How would this happen?"

I can't help the mocking tone that leaches into my voice, "Well Quinn, when two people like each other very much, and those two people want to express that like physically then the birds and the bees get frisky so—"

She cuts me off with a raised hand, "I _mean._ What are we going to be? Fuck buddies? What do we do at school? Is it a secret or is it no big deal?"

I honestly hadn't thought about this so I start quietly when I suggested, "Friends with benefits, no additional entanglements. And I guess we don't tell anyone? But if one of the Gleeks figures it out because, I don't know, _someone_ is a little unsubtle about it," I give her a pointed look. "Then we don't deny it?" I end in a question hoping that Quinn will throw me a bone and at least just fucking agree with me.

I hated making these kinds of decisions now. I had kept Brittany in the closet for so long that she not only started resenting me for it but she actually ended our relationship in favor of a lousy boy with no control over his lower extremities(yeah, still bitter). I don't want to say it but I really needed Quinn to be on the same page here.

Thankfully she nods and even adds a summary of her own, "So we stay friends. But we get to help each other...relieve certain...tensions."

"Exactly. Things at school stay the same. We continue to live our lives separately at McKinley but if someone gets nosey, then we tell the truth—unless it's Jewfro in which case he gets left without a testicle. Chances are though that someone in Glee club is gonna notice."

Surprisingly, Quinn just nods, "You're probably right. Does that mean that I shouldn't rejoin glee?"

I stare at her for a moment. "Do you want to join Glee? You seemed to be enjoying Rachel's morning visits well enough." I add suggestively.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Sure, I like them fine. But I like glee too. And don't you roll your eyes at me Santana Lopez because I know for a _fact_ that you love it too. And if I'm really honest," she bites her lip self consciously before she continues. "I like...being with Rachel...and everyone in Glee club. Singing and dancing as a team. It kind of reminds me of Cheerios except without the torture of squad drills."

I can't help but admit that she's right on the money in comparing Glee and Cheerios. Even if I couldn't share her sentiments about her Hobbit. Berry's _unique_ leadership style tends to make me want to cut my own ears off. I decide to keep these thoughts to myself because—and I almost gag when I see it—Quinn's eyes have shifted into that soft, loving expression I'd seen on Monday. It was also an expression I'd seen her wearing when she passed Rachel in the hallway on Tuesday and also when she passed Rachel in the cafeteria on Thursday.

I was sorely tempted to tease Quinn about her very specific I-love-Rachel-expression but then I probably wear a very similar expression when I pass Brittany in the halls and I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to be mocked openly about that. At least, not without the natural reaction to knock someone's—read: Quinn's—teeth in.

I decide to step back to the Glee question, "If you want to rejoin Glee club then you should Q. This little...whatever shouldn't get in the way of either of our lives. In fact," I'm somehow thinking quite quickly and coherently despite the alcohol in my system. "In fact, I think we should agree to full disclosure. Right now." Quinn raises one eyebrow in question and I plow forward. "We should promise to tell each other how we're feeling about everything. I know, I know feelings are awkward as fuck and I'm not any more looking forward to D&M's with you than I'm sure you are with me. My point is that the only way that this is gonna work is if we're completely honest with each other. Full disclosure."

Thank Christ Quinn is nodding like she understands. If she'd asked me to expand I probably would have given up and agreed to some quick anonymous fucking which, at this point would probably destroy both of us.

Quinn expands on this, "So if I think that things are happening with Ra—someone then I just tell you and we...discuss?"

I nod in affirmation, "Yeah and if things start moving forward with _anyone_ for me then we just take a step back and agree to figure out our shit. Right?"

Quinn looks hesitant as she seems to review what I'm suggesting. I can't blame her. We are drunk after all.

"Yeah," she say. "I think we need to be open with each other about what is happening with our lives."

"I think you are completely correct Q."

She gives me a loose smile and then grabs two shot glasses, "I think we can make this work Lopez."

– –

With slightly too much pizza in my stomach and far too much alcohol in my bloodstream I sit contentedly with Quinn. Once we took a few extra shots of vodka we stopped talking about 'The Plan' and just enjoyed hanging out.

I'd just put the last of the pizza into the fridge, knowing we would probably want it to soak up our hangovers in the morning. Quinn was playing her fingers along the edge of her shot glass and staring intently at the bottle of vodka. We had gone though quite a lot and I was feeling a little dizzy. I sat back down next to Quinn and watched her as she glared at the bottle in front of her.

The staring is getting weird and boring. "You know your hair looks like fairy floss right?"

Quinn looks up at me, "Why, are you gunna eat me?" she says with a lecherous wiggle of her eyebrows."

Touché

I shrug, "Not a big fan of carnival food."

Quinn laughs but seems to get distracted as she glances at me. "Do do you think it's going to scar?" she says abruptly.

I look at her confused.

"Your eyebrow," she explains. "I think I got you with my elbow or something. Is it going to scar?"

I reach up to run my finger over the raised edge. "Probably."

Quinn looks a little guilty. "I'msorryIpermanently disfiguredyou."

"What was that?" I tease.

She sighs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to permanently disfigure your face."

"Now that wasn't do hard was it?"

"Fuck you Lopez."

I laugh. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth Fabray?"

She just glares at me. I decide to let her off the hook. I raise one hand to feel at the healing cut above my eye. "Don't worry about it Q."

"Really?" She looks skeptical again, "I was a little worried you were waiting for the right moment to retaliate."

"Yeah well I thought about it. Sue pretty much tore me a new one on Monday when she saw it. I couldn't really cover it up with makeup could I? But, well I kinda like it now. And Britt think it makes me look," I fight against the blush burning my cheeks. "Britt thinks it makes me look. Dashing. Or something," I hesitate to share the exact words Brittany had used when she saw the injuries I had sustained. "Like a 'dark avenger' after a fight."

Quinn huffs out an incredulous laugh as my cheeks burn, "Oh my god S I'll bet you _loved_ that. You really are hopelessly whipped. "

"Almost as much as you _love_ every time Berry follows her enormous beak into your den under the bleachers?"

"You know Santana, Rachel's nose isn't that big."

"Wasn't going to stop you from giving her yours."

"This isn't mine anyway," Quinn says gesturing unnecessarily to her own face. "It would have been pretty hypocritical of me to try and talk her out of a nose job."

"Yeah well, at least now when you start making with the sexy times you wont have to worry about looking like you're making out with you sister. Unless you're into that kind of thing. I mean I've seen photos of your actual sister and she's actually pretty doable."

Quinn scrunches up her face in a distinct look of disgust, "Ew. please don't ever describe any member of my family as 'doable'."

"Why, are those old body insecurities getting the better of you? I mean the new look does some amazing things for your ass." I smirk and let my eyes run over Quinn's body. "Even if you did lose the amazing boobs that you were supporting during the pregnancy. Hey do you think you could maybe get those back? Like if you spend enough time with the Quickerman spawn then your body will make them huge again. Cause I have to admit I'd like to get some face time with those particular chesticals. Especially compared to the speed bumps you've got now. I've noticed you've been free-boobing it these days. Which I guess is fine now that you're one of those less fortunates with the curves of a chubby eleven year old boy again.

"Oh screw you Lopez."

"Well yes I am planning on it Fabray."

"Oh ha fucking ha. And an additional ha for you and your lame ass seduction techniques. By the way."

I laugh cockily, "I seem to recall getting _you_ on your back with my 'lame ass' seduction techniques. Not to mention some pretty heavy breathing on your end."

Quinn smirks. We're just getting into the swing of things and she steps it up, "Puh-lease LezPez you were crushing me with your fat ass. I was trying not to suffocate."

Oh now she's just gone too far. I stand up from the chair so I can lean my face in closer to hers. "Pretty big words from Quinn 'stretch marks' Fabray. Especially considering the fact that I'm pretty sure you haven't done so much as a single sit up in months. Maybe you haven't noticed through the smoke haze under the bleachers but I am _Head_ Cheerio and I can quite literally run laps around any other kid in that inadequate institution referred to as our place of learning."

Quinn's smirk doesn't so much as flicker through this tirade. I have to wonder if she's somehow tuned me out even though I'm literally shouting into her face.

I'm confident she's listening though and I can see a distinct sparkle in her eye and a soft blush in her cheeks.

It's now that I realise two things. One is that we _both_ have some _gross_ emotional problems which should probably be addressed. The second thing is that Quinn is just as turned on as I am. And I am really turned on. I'm breathing heavily and can feel my body responding but I wait for Quinn to make a move. I figure I've already made the first by stepping into her personal space. Quinn continues to stare into my eyes and i resist the urge to glance away.

Suddenly I feel Quinn's hand on my hip. Finally.

"Santana?" her voice is low and urgent.

"What." My voice is embarrassingly shaky.

Quinn's voice cracks as well. "We need to go upstairs. Now.

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><p>AN: Sorry, I know I promised sexy times this chapter and gave you banter instead. Don't hate me. I <em>promise <em>I'll update again soon. Thanks for all the alerts, favourites and reviews. You guys seriously keep me going :)


	7. Capital G

AN: ummmm. So presuming you've read the chapters leading up to now, you'll know what's coming up in this chapter. Just in case you are somehow unprepared, here is your warning: M rating is for a reason. If lady love isn't your thing then, well why are you here right?

My cherished readers, the first 4 lines are recap(ish). Please enjoy.

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><p><em>Suddenly I feel Quinn's hand on my hip. Finally.<em>

_"Santana?" her voice is low and urgent._

_"What." My voice is embarrassingly shaky._

_Quinn's voice cracks as well. "We need to go upstairs. Now."_

I finally break from her gaze as I grab her hand and drag her towards the stairs. I drop her hand so I can gallop up the stairs two at a time. I'm forcibly reminded of that day we were nearly caught and had run up the stairs with a similar urgency. I glance at Quinn and see that she's just as thrilled as I am at these much more agreeable circumstances.

I pause at the top of the stairs so that Quinn can move ahead of me and open her door. I'm Still a little worried that she could wig out on me so I let her open her own door and then pause just long enough for her to have to invite me inside.

As soon as I'm on the other side Quinn shuts the door. I glance around the room glad to see that Quinn has finally taken down that creepy Jesus painting. Quinn doesn't give me any time to observe anything else though as she's tugging on the back of my shirt. I let myself be drawn back and she uses her hands to press me into the back of the door. I can't help the grunt that escapes my throat as my back hits the door and Quinn aligns her whole body to mine.

She grinds against me and I can feel my body reacting to every touch. She's kissing me fervently. Her fingers are pressed into my shoulders and mine are in her short hair. The length of it combined with the pink is legitimately doing things for me so I can't help but wind my fingers through it.

Our kisses are surprisingly easy. Slow, languid and a little exploratory. Her tongue presses against mine and our breathing is almost synchronized. Quinn breaks away for a moment and I open my eyes to see what she's doing. She's staring at my lips. As I watch, her eyes move over my face as though memorizing my features. I wonder what she's looking for.

"Can I help you with anything Q?" my tone is joking but I really do want to know.

She stares at my lips for several long moments before looking back up to my eyes. "I just. I'm trying to figure something out."

"And what's that?"

"Mostly the difference. I mean obviously girls are pretty and soft and they know what other girls want so that's going to make things better right?" I don't know if she actually requires a response and she continues before I can give her an answer, "But I still don't know if I—if this is..." she trails off in frustration.

"Look Quinn, I know this is all new or whatever but I really need you to shut the hell up," I don't mean to be so short with her but she's been working me up and generally playing me like a finely tuned instrument for hours, hell maybe even years. "This is exactly why they call it experimenting. You're figuring shit out and seeing what works. And judging by the way you're breathing I _know _that this is working for you." At this I actually push her away from me and direct her firmly toward the bed. "Now please concentrate because I wants to get my mack on and I wants it now."

I'm glad that Quinn recognises the playful edge to my voice and she smirks at me as she sits down on her bed and slides back towards the pillows. I follow her on my knees until she stops in the middle of the bed. I swing one leg over her so I'm straddling her hips. She grins up at me as I smile down at her. Finally she reaches out and threads her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck. She pulls me down until I reach her lips. I hold my body away from hers as we kiss. The tension is slowly building and I can hear her breathing accelerate again.

I pull away from her and she growls her disapproval. I can't help but smirk at her.

She glares at me, "What happened to 'wants my mack on', Lopez?"

I chuckle lowly but kiss her again, quickly deepening the kiss and then pulling away. This time she follows and pulls harder against me. I'm suddenly in the mood to tease and I resist her. She's practically hanging off me when I finally relent and kiss her again. Our lips and tongues are moving swiftly against each other but I can feel Quinn getting impatient. I chuckle into her lips and Quinn growls again. The growl is damn sexy and totally worth the strain I'm feeling in my arms. Finally Quinn has had enough and she kicks against the inside of my knees so my lower body is forced to slump down against hers.

She tries to pull my shoulders down but I hold firm and actually pull my mouth from hers to kiss at her neck. She gasps as I suck at the tender skin below her ear. Finally she relents and slumps back with her hands tangled in my hair once again. I allow myself a little internal victory dance.

Slowly, I start to draw my arms back and my body presses down into Quinn's. I sigh at the contact but Quinn apparently has other ideas. Her body tenses and I know what she's going to do moments before she tries to flip us over. I press my weight against her and hold my frame making it impossible for her to change our position. She growls again in frustration and I feel a fresh tingle in my groin at the noise.

I grin against her neck as I continue kissing her, "What were you trying to do Fabray? Top me?" I'm teasing her with both my words and my tongue and I can feel the effect I'm having on her as she shifts subtly against me. "And what were you going to do when you get there?" I whisper into her ear, "Do you even know?"

I feel her body stiffen suddenly against me I realise that I've said exactly the wrong thing. Quinn's hands suddenly unwind from my hair and spring away from me. I pull back so I can look into her face. I see a flare of panic in her eyes and I understand what it means immediately. I pull my body away from hers so I'm lying beside her on the bed.

The fear in Quinn's eyes now is the realisation that all her bravado and confidence has been an act. The truth, is that Quinn is inexperienced. She's told me before that she barely remembers being with Puck and so far as I can get out of her, she hasn't let anyone else touch her since. Tonight isn't just her first time with a girl, this will be the first time she would actively participate in any sexual activity since Beth was conceived. We had both managed to forget that. Our natural competitiveness had completely taken over and we had been too busy egging each other on to remember.

I see her eyes flick to the door and I know that she is moments away from bolting. I can't let that happen and not just because I'm worked up and want to have sex. I do want to obviously but there's more than that. If Quinn leaves now she may never make it back to this point. She'll end up shriveled and alone with nothing but a dozen cats to keep her company. Or even worse, she'll end up married to some man, miserable and dreaming of things that should have been. I can't let that happen.

Quinn is sitting stiffly against the headboard on the bed, having shuffled herself away from me. I shift very slowly, holding her gaze. It feels incredibly intimate and I fight my own fears as I move towards her, refusing to look away. I say her name once but she doesn't acknowledge it. I'm close enough to touch her again and I very carefully reach out to stroke my fingertips up her forearm. She shivers.

"I don't know what I'm doing." Her voice is small and there is an emotional quiver in her voice.

I keep my tone low and even, "No one ever does Q. But it's okay because you've got me. You'll always have me. Understand?"

She nods as a single tear escapes her shimmering eyes. She swipes at the tear quickly, obviously annoyed at how quickly her emotions have boiled over. I smile as I move my hand from stroking her arm to scratch across a sliver of exposed stomach. I very slowly shift closer to her again and allow my hand to shift from her stomach to her side. I then shift my weight again so that my hand slides to rest against the bed covers on her other side.

I have one arm on either side of her now and I slowly move towards her until I can finally press my lips against hers. I'm surprised when she responds almost immediately, pulling at the back of my head. I slide my hands to her back so I can very gently slide her closer to me and into a more relaxed position. She lifts slightly and slides down to meet me. She's laying on her back with her head in the pillows. I shift back to lie along the length of her, slowly allowing my body to press into hers again.

Our kisses quickly escalate and our breathing is harsh and staccato. I wind my hands into her short hair. We are moving against one another and there is nothing I want more than to thrust my hand down Quinn's shorts. Knowing that would be counter productive I settle for pushing Quinn's top up against her body. I also let my own top slip upwards before removing it all together. Quinn seems to ignore the change and I choose not to draw her attention to it.

When my fingers move to the waist of her skirt, there is a distinct change in Quinn's movements but she makes no move to stop me so me so I continue to trace my fingers along the edge of the fabric.

Quinn's hands are moving against me as well and it doesn't take long for her to get my jeans unbuttoned and to press her hands against my backside. I try not to grunt too loudly when her hands find my bare ass cheeks, instead settling with pushing Quinn's shirt the rest of the way up and over her breast. She gasps at the suddenly cool air against her chest but lifts her arms at my small prompt. I pull her shirt the rest of the way up over her head and drop it off the side of the bed.

With Quinn's top-half suddenly naked I feel completely overdressed so I make quick work of my own shirt. Quinn looks mildly put out when I unsnap my bra and toss it aside. It occurs to me that maybe Quinn wanted to do that part.

I smirk at her as I go back to straddling her hips, "Don't worry Q, I'll let you undress me next time."

"Next time?" she sounds so small and unsure that I have no idea what I can say to comfort her. I settle for kissing her with as much warmth and care as I can muster.

She responds eagerly and we're quickly back to breathing heavily. Quinn's hands are pushed into the back of my jeans and my hands are , well everywhere I can reach. For all my jokes, Quinn is still in excellent shape and everywhere my hands run her body is smooth and incredibly touchable. I carefully avoid brushing her breasts with my hands. The feel of her breasts against mine is enough to keep me content for the moment.

I know I could stay like this for a very long time, content with the warm sensations running through my body but I can feel Quinn getting impatient. With the way her body is moving against my own I know that she is eager to move things forward.

I adjust my position so that my thigh is between hers, pushing up the hem of her skirt and pressing against her heat. I slide my hands down her thighs to caress the soft skin along the edge of her underwear.

I whisper reassurances into her ear, "Don't worry Q, I've got you."

The tenseness that had remained in her shoulders disappears and I feel her body start moving rhythmically against me again.

I keep nuzzling gently against her neck in between kisses, tracking her movements as well as the small flickers of emotion that cross her features.

I pull her skirt away from her body, maintaining eye contact the whole way. I remove my own jeans, quickly kicking them away towards the bottom of the bed.

The thin barrier of Quinn's underwear is inconsequential as I look up Quinn's body. I trace my eyes and hands up her supple calves and tense thighs, skimming over her hips with my thumbs barely grazing her pubic mound. I press with just enough pressure to feel the wetness on her underwear. Knowing that I have this kind of effect on Quinn, on another girl is thrilling.

I press wet kisses up her lower abdomen, tracing my tongue around her navel. I lick and kiss across her abdomen, pressing my hands along her sides. Quinn's chest is heaving and her eyes are closed. She is lost in sensation and I love the way she is moving against me. I kiss along the lower edge of her right breast and trail my fingertips along the side of her left.

I raise my body high enough to check that Quinn's okay. Her concentration seems to be focused on the feelings in her body and not on the scared thoughts that had been rattling her consciousness before. Her eyes are still closed and her mouth is slightly agape as she pants heavily.

I resettle my body to rest along the length of hers with my stomach pressed down into her centre. I feel her warm wetness soaking through her underwear and I shudder at the sensation of Quinn against my abdomen. I can't help the grin on my face as I lower my lips to hover over her right nipple. I let a warm breath brush over the sensitive flesh and Quinn gives out the quietest moan. I'm not even sure if I heard or imagined it. I slide the flat of my tongue over her and this time I'm sure of the moan that escapes her lips. I have let my hand drift to caress tenderly at the skin along her throat and neck so I feel the vibration in my fingertips.

I envelope her nipple in my lips before shifting subtly to gently nibble at the tender flesh of her breast. I apply the slightest pressure but it's enough to have Quinn's hips cant up into me. I shift to her other breast to apply the same pressure with my teeth. She cants upwards again and I lick across to envelope her nipple.

I can feel a heat radiating from Quinn's core and it is like she has a direct link to mine. Whenever she cants her hips upwards I feel a pulse run though my clit. I push myself into the mattress below me trying to keep my movement subtle. Stupid really since my stomach is pressing into Quinn's groin and she can most certainly feel every move I make.

Quinn shudders hard against me and grabs at my shoulders obviously in an attempt to drag me back up her body. I follow her lead and shift so my body is more fully overlapping hers and I can kiss her lips again. My hips are against hers and both my leg are still between her thighs. My eyes slam shut as our lips connect.

Our kisses are passionate and hungry. I press my hips down into her and she cants back up into me. We connect hard and I can actually feel an orgasm threatening to break through my body. I gasp against Quinn's mouth and fight against the sensations. I won't be able to look Quinn in the eye again if I pull a Hudson on her. I draw away slightly. It's just enough to ease the pressure and stop me falling apart there and then.

I don't want this to be some quickie and I open my eyes to make sure Quinn is still okay. Her eyes have snapped open again and she lets out a low growl when she feels me draw back. Her expression shows intense frustration and I see her bite down on her lip even as her hands slip down to grab at my hips. Without warning she pushes me down against her and slams her groin up into mine. The pressure that was building in me finally shatters and I tumble into my orgasm as Quinn yelps out and throws her arms around my back to cling, trembling to my shoulders.

We're both panting against each other's necks and clinging tightly to one another. I can feel little aftershocks trembling through us both. I am in complete shock. I had completely underestimated the level to which we had been working each other up. I try to catch my breath and slow my heart. I am so ready to just roll over and go to sleep but I didn't come here to hump Quinn into an orgasm. I need to be inside of her.

As the thought coalesces fully in my mind I can't help but register just how _Gay_ it all sounds. Yes, I've called myself a lesbian several times already but I'm still in the process of really accepting it. I know I probably shouldn't be finding my moments of clarity at a time like this. I know that I wont be telling my grandchildren about how I found my self-acceptance between the legs of a pink haired, ex-cheerio, punk girl but I can't help but find a weird kind of comfort in how easily the filthy thoughts about Quinn Fabray come to my mind. Besides, I've already covered the whole _gross emotional problems_ thing right?

I can feel the strength returning to my limbs and I ignore Quinn's mumbled protests as I separate my body from hers. I kiss my way down her neck and across her chest, lingering just enough to play my tongue across each of her breasts once. I kiss down her abdomen and linger with my lips resting against her right hip. The way that her skin curves across the bone of her hip and dips towards her centre is completely enthralling. I can't think of anything sexier right now and I trace my tongue over the sweep of flesh between her hips.

Quinn, once again threads her fingers into my hair. Rather than pulling me back towards her, she is holding me in place against her. I know I've found something of a sweet spot when she starts to roll against me again. I alternate between licking and kissing her smooth skin feeling every press of my lips gradually working her back up.

I tease my fingers against the edge of her underwear looking for permission to remove the last obstruction between me and her body. Quinn's hips lift off the mattress and I quickly tug her underwear away. I glance up into her face and see a concentrated look of lust and pleasure. It's exactly what I was hoping for and I quickly lean forward to press my lips against her lower abdomen one more time before moving lower.

I gently push her thighs apart and lay one leg across my shoulder. If Quinn has any objections to being manually shifted, she doesn't choose to share them. I look up at her from my position between her legs and resist the urge to sigh out loud. She looks incredible from here. That dip between her hips and the valley between her breasts allow me to see her face as she pants and squirms against me. Every flicker of sensation in her body is reflected subtly in her face. In that moment I am reminded of how much Quinn's friendship means to me. I feel a strong desire to show her exactly what I feel for her.

I keep my gaze fixed to her face as I wrap one arm over her hips to keep her in place. I bring my other hand up to press against the apex of her thighs. Quinn's eyelids flicker. I take in a deep breath and the scent of her arousal completely floods my senses. Very carefully, I shift my hand until I can slip the tip of my index finger into Quinn's lips and press against her clit. Quinn's hips jerk slightly but her face remains still. I pull my finger down towards her entrance, rotating my wrist so I can easily spread her slickness back up through her folds. Quinn's lower lip quivers through a deep breath. I repeat the action several times, ending each progression with a flick over the hardened bundle of nerves. Quinn nibbles at her lip as she breathes heavily through her nose and around her teeth.

I drag that one finger down one more time before pressing a second finger to join the first, making small circles through her wetness. I take in another deep breath through my nose and close my eyes. When I open them again I can see Quinn staring down at me. I refuse to lose my nerve and I shift forward quickly before I can change my mind. My tongue slips quickly into her and finds her clit. I lick upwards quickly with just the tip of my tongue.

Quinn's shoulders leave the mattress and her knees snap up. "Ungh. Santana. Fuck." Quinn's vocalizations are a little less than coherent but what can I say, I'm good at this. I can feel her knees drifting back down and her shoulder slip back towards the mattress.

I cease all movements of my fingers as I wait for her to uncoil. Finally she lets her head drop back down to the pillows with her eyes closed. I lick across her clit with the flat of my tongue. Her legs twitch against me but remain in place for the most part. I adjust my grip on her hips just to make sure she doesn't buck me off her when I really get to work. I lick again and I see her teeth press back into her lip.

I lick at her again and she throws one arm over her eyes. I circle the tip of my tongue against her and she moans. My confidence redoubles at the sound and I start to move my fingers through her folds again. On the next lap of my tongue I enter her with both fingers up to the second knuckle. I freeze inside of her and wait for any sign that I might have hurt her. Quinn's teeth release the hold on her lower lip as she grunts in pleasure. I press my fingers the rest of the way in as I lick the flat of my tongue against her. Quinn actually cants her hips into my hand and I smile against her even as my tongue resumes the small circles around her clit.

I draw my fingers out of her slowly before pushing them back in again. When I hear a murmured instruction of faster from above me I don't hesitate to comply. I start up a steady rhythm with my hand as my tongue continues to flick across her swollen clit. Quinn smothers her moans with her hand. We're alone in the house which means that, really she can be as loud as she wants. I don't try to stop her though. I figure maybe she wants to keep her orgasmic screams from the other rooms of the house she grew up in.

It doesn't take long for Quinn's legs to start trembling and her walls to start their irregular tremors against my fingers. I thrust my fingers in hard and draw my thumb up to add an alternate swipe between flicks of my tongue. The additional pressure or texture is enough to send Quinn over the edge and both of her legs slam up against the sides of my head. I still the movements of my fingers as I gently rub the pad of my thumb over her to draw out her orgasm.

When her legs finally slump against the mattress I take the opportunity to crawl back up the bed. I shift my legs and body to one side of her but leave my hand between her legs until the last flutterings against my fingers finally stop. Quinn, has her arm back across her eyes so I can't quite see her expression properly. When I pull my fingers out of her, she shudders slightly but doesn't make a sound. I wipe my wet fingers against my thigh and the ass of my underwear. It's awkward but effective.

I glance at Quinn, wondering if I should force her to pull her arm away and look at me. I hear a small gasp and snap my eyes to her lips which are quivering. I tug urgently at her arm but she resists. Another gasp escapes her and I realise what's happening. She's crying. I finally pull her arm away and she quickly tries to cover her face with her free hand. I grasp both of her hands firmly to my chest. She is sobbing now and I have no earthly clue what to do. She looks broken. I have broken Quinn with an orgasm.

I make useless shushing noises as I grasp both of her hands in one of mine and move the other to cup her cheek. She turns onto her side and looks into my eyes for a moment. She looks like every emotion she's ever felt is pushing through her all at once. I could never explain what that exactly looks like but it is in front of me in this moment. I shuffle closer to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. She cuddles into me and burrows her face into the crook of my neck. I stretch one arm to the bottom of the bed and quickly draw the thick blanket there over us both. It's a scratchy blanket that really shouldn't be against anyone's skin but it will have to do.

I continue my soft shushing noises, unable to vocalize any real assurances because I just can't manage to get a handle on what is really causing her tears. I have theories and suppositions but with the way that she is clinging to me and sobbing into my shoulder I can't risk saying the wrong thing. I stroke the back of her head gently until her sobs slow and her breathing becomes steady.

With Quinn still wrapped tightly in my arms, I fall asleep

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><p>Thanks for all of the alerts, favourites and reviews. You, the readers are awesome.<p> 


	8. Serious Conversations

**AN: **Recap to start cause of the long hiatus.

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><p><em>She cuddles into me and burrows her face into the crook of my neck. I stretch one arm to the bottom of the bed and quickly draw the thick blanket there over us both. It's a scratchy blanket that really shouldn't be against anyone's skin but it will have to do.<em>

_I continue my soft shushing noises, unable to vocalize any real assurances because I just can't manage to get a handle on what is really causing her tears. I have theories and suppositions but with the way that she is clinging to me and sobbing into my shoulder I can't risk saying the wrong thing. I stroke the back of her head gently until her sobs slow and her breathing becomes steady. _

_With Quinn still wrapped tightly in my arms, I fall asleep._

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><p>It was the second time I had held Quinn in my arms as she cried herself into exhaustion. I never thought I would be in a position where I would have to hold her while we were both naked. Not in the way I did last night.<p>

Waking up with her still pressed against me is a little strange now that we've had sex. You would think that having sex would make me more comfortable with Quinn but it's almost like the opposite has happened.

I feel deeply uncomfortable. My skin feels sticky with old sweat and the rest of the bodily fluids we had so enjoyed last night. I wish I had showered last night but there was just no chance to slip away from Quinn who had shattered so completely in my arms. I know I'll have to ask her about it. I know it is going to be awkward as fuck but it's inevitable. I glance at the clock on the bedside and see that it's still pretty early. I unwind my arms from Quinn who doesn't stir. I'm not surprised. Crying is freaking exhausting. I slip out from the sheets and pad towards the bathroom. I need a shower pretty badly so I step straight into the shower recess and twist the hot water on full force. Steam quickly fills up the room and I adjust the temperature with just enough cold water to be able to step under it.

The hot water streaming down my body feels amazing. I unhook the loofa from the hook on the wall and squirt a little body wash into it, scrubbing it across every stretch of skin I can reach. I wonder how long Quinn will sleep for. I've made plans to meet up with Brittany later and I really don't want to have to sit and watch Quinn sleep.

A knock on the glass makes me jump about a mile into the air and I slam one hand onto the wall to steady myself and the other to my chest above where my heart is slamming against my ribs. I quickly recover myself and scrub away some of the condensation from the glass at eye level. There's a head of shocking pink hair on the other side. It's just Quinn.

She looks at me with an amused expression, "Christ Santana. Did you think I was a home invader or something?"

I glare at her but before I can reply she is opening the glass door that separates us. What the hell is she doing? I wonder if she is going to hand me something so I look down towards her hands. Instead of finding some mystery object I get an eyeful of Quinn and her very naked body.

"What are you doing Q?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting in the shower."

"Yeah but with me? Aren't there like six showers in this house."

Quinn just shrugs as she steps under the jet of water, sharing in my very personal space. I cant help the blush that runs up my cheeks and I hope that it is unnoticable in the heat generated by the shower. I clear my throat, deciding that I was clean enough.

I leave Quinn in the shower and step out. I've forgotten to grab a towel so I just walk out into the house naked. It's even more ridiculous for me to be so awkward with Quinn in the shower because I have no problems with nudity. We all wander around in the Cheerios' locker room in various states of undress all the time. I check at the bedroom door for any sounds of movement just incase there is someone out there. I'm Pretty sure Russell Fabray would actually have a heart attack if he caught me naked. When I hear nothing I make my way downstairs and to my bag which is still in the kitchen. I quickly unzip it and put on the underwear I'd packed. I sling the bag over my shoulder and head back to the bedroom.

Quinn is already back in her room with a towel wrapped around her torso. What I had failed to notice in our shower shuffle is that her eyes are still blood shot and her body language is screaming _I don't want to talk about it._ I quickly find the dress that I'd packed in my bag and throw it on over my head.

I leave the room with my bag on my shoulder, heading for the kitchen and leaving Quinn to dwell in her mess of emotions. I know that being forced to _talk_ about all _my_ gay lady feelings had only made me retreat harder into the closet and I figure that Quinn will come to me when she is ready.

When I get to the kitchen I grab my makeup and compact out of my bag. With my eyes as smokey as I think I can get away with on a Saturday morning I put everything away and then bury my head in the fridge, hunting for something hearty(greasy) to eat. I smile gratefully when I find the left over pizza. I slide the pieces onto a tray and into the oven with a sprinkling of extra cheese.

By the time Quinn makes it downstairs I am tapping crumbs off the plate with my fingertips and licking them into my mouth. Quinn takes the seat beside me and I stand to grab her slices out of the warm oven and slide them onto a plate. She eats in silence.

When my phone buzzes I jump up to answer it, "Hey Britt. Yeah I'm just having some breakfast now."

Brittany's voice comes through the line, "_Cool. Were you at Quinn's again last night?_"

I hesitate, glancing up at Quinn, "Um yeah, I'm still here actually."

There is a lengthy pause on the other end of the line. I know that, even without my saying so, Britt will know what Quinn and I have done. The pause at the other end worries me because it means that she is thinking hard about her response. This is so unusual that it makes me instantly nervous. Finally she replies, "_Oh. Um cool._" That's it. I feel my heart clench as I glance at Quinn who is staring determinedly at her empty plate. I'm glad that she finished her pizza slices before Britt rang.

"Um yeah, so I'll come pick you up in the next hour okay?"

I hear the shuffling noise at the other end of the phone which means Brittany is nodding before she says out loud, "Okay, great I'll see you soon." Her tone is more jovial now, if a little forced.

"Yeah, Britt. I'll see you soon." I hang up and slide my phone into my bra.

Quinn is still staring at the plate. I don't know what to do with her. She's got that faraway catatonia stare happening. It's creeping me out but I'm extremely thankful she isn't crying any more.

I wrack my brain, trying to remember the seven stages of grief or whatever. I can only really think of like two and I have no idea what order they're meant to come in. I know that one of the stages is denial and I hope that she has moved past that stage of grieving her straight-girl status. Otherwise this could get really awkward really quickly. Maybe she's about to get to the anger stage. I could probably handle Quinn yelling at me.

"Quinn?" I start. "Do you want to...talk about it?"

She shakes her head and I resist the urge to sigh in relief. If I talk to her now I'll probably just say something stupid and counter productive. I need to see Brittany and talk to her about this before anything else.

"Quinn?" she finally looks up at me and I lock her gaze with mine before I continue. "We're gonna be alright. I promise. But I need to go see Brittany now. Can you call me later? We can talk about what's happening here."

Quinn just nods but then she clears her throat, "I don't know if I can do that."

"Do what?"

"Talk about it."

Oh crap. "Um well maybe if you come over to mine later. Or Brittany's? And we can talk about it together?"

She shrugs her shoulders but stands up. I shoulder my bag again and move towards the front door. This is _incredibly_ awkward. What do you say to a girl who's girl-on-girl-virginhood you had recently taken?

"So umm, I'll see you later okay?"

Quinn gives a half shrug, half nod. I guess I can't force her to talk to me so I just nod as though she had just said yes.

I give her a brief, awkward hug and then walk through the door, closing it behind me. I practically run to my car, resisting the tightness in my chest that makes me feel like I'm about to hyperventilate.

* * *

><p>I pull up in front of Brittany's house a few blocks away and shoot her a quick text message. I feel no urge to go up to the house and face the litany of questions undoubtedly waiting for me. I know that Britt's Mom and inexplicably her sister had been suspicious about our 'friendship' for years. When Brittany had started dating Artie officially Britt's mother had cornered me for one of the most awkward and subtext-filled conversations of my life.<p>

For some reason Mrs Pierce had been operating under some guise of Don't-ask-don't-tell and had felt the need to enquire after our relationship without once acknowledging that Britt and I had been any more than friends. The whole thing was, suffice to say weird and confusing. I'd been forced to walk away when the words 'confusing feelings' had been used in conjunction with an analogy involving a cat in a drain pipe. To this day, I am at a loss as to what the woman was trying to get at.

Brittany's little sister, also known as Satan's Unholy Spawn had been a little more direct in her approach. The precocious 8 year old had no qualms about asking why Brittany and I had broken up. She may also have suggested that I had somehow stolen Brittany's new boyfriend's legs for some evil experiment. What can I say? Kids these days are more open to alternate possibilities and lifestyles than their parents.

Thankfully, I'm saved from the awkward conversations by Britt skipping down her front steps without any further prompting. She reaches my car quickly and throws open the door. Slamming down on her seat she quickly turns to me, throwing her arms around my shoulders.

"Woah, Britt what's up?" she's hugging me like I haven't seen her in months even though I saw her on Friday afternoon.

"I just missed you San." Her hug is extremely tight and I feel myself melting under her touch.

I hear a shuddering breath escape her and I quickly pull back to look at her. I am shocked to see there are tears in her eyes. My heart almost stops. I never wanted to see Brittany upset ever again. I quickly ask her what's wrong and she just shakes her head.

She gives me a weak smile, "It's nothing, I'm just really glad you're here."

"Is this about Quinn? I mean, this was your idea wasn't it?" I don't want to try shifting around blame but she really has me worried. "We're making things better between us. Better for all of us. Right?" I feel suddenly very unsure about everything and I search her eyes for some kind of answer.

She glances down and away from me, "Yeah I guess I just wanted to make sure you were still the same you, you know? That you would still want—that you would still want to see me."

I feel my face crumple but I refuse to let myself cry. Of course I still want to be with Brittany. I love her and I want to be with her more than anything. I love Quinn too. I had learnt a lot about my feelings last night. I'm still figuring out the changes that had occurred between Quinn and I last night but the only person that I want to talk to about it _is_ Brittany.

"Come on Britt, nothing could make me not want to see you."

She takes a deep breath, rolling her eyes at her own reaction, "I know San, I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting everything to happen so fast I guess. And when you were on the phone this morning and you were at Quinn's still. I don't know. I just felt this thing in my chest like...like," she flicks her eyes around the car looking for an appropriate emotion. I think I know what it is. The same thing I felt whenever I saw Brittany wheeling Artie the autobot into the Choir room Junior year.

"It's okay Britt, and I want to talk about everything with you. But let's just get to the mall and we can get our window shopping on."

Brittany releases my arms and sits back in her chair nodding. I flick my indicator on and pull away from the curb as Brittany clicks in her seat belt. She tugs her iPod out of her pocket and connects it to the stereo. I'm eternally grateful for our shared love of music. I was too distracted to plug my phone into the stereo when I first got into the car and the silence was already getting annoying. I need music and noise in my life. Call it the curse of Gen-Zeds or whatever. I love music and I need it around me, no matter what form it takes.

For Brittany, music means anything she can move her body to so the collection on her iPod is...eclectic to say the least. Anything from a remixed version of Itsy Bitsy spider to The Black Keys or Michael Jackson. As I turn out of her neighborhood and out onto the main road, it's Roxy Music that pours through the stereo. There is no chance that I would even know who this band was except for Britt. I sing along to _The Strand_ all the same, having heard this one a few times before.

Brittany dances frantically in her seat until the next song. Lady Gaga thumps through my stereo and I join her in singing along until we reach the mall. We hear the opening to a Justin Beiber song as we hunt for a park and I make her skip to a Florence And The Machine song so I wouldn't be forced to have the Beibs stuck in my head for the rest of the day. We get to the chorus of _Dog Days_ before I can bring myself to cut the power on the stereo.

Brittany smiles at me and jumps out of the car with her bag swinging wildly against her hip. I force my keys and cash card into my bra next to my phone knowing that I should probably have brought a purse. Too late now.

We make it through two clothing stores and are perusing through my favorite shoe store before Brittany broaches the 'serious' conversation we'd been avoiding. I've known it was coming but that doesn't make me feel any better when she launches in. As usual she opens the conversation as though we had already been discussing it at length.

"She texted me." Brittany says quietly.

"Yeah?" I don't bother asking who she's talking about. We're obviously taking about Quinn. "What did she want to talk about."

"Well she wasn't exactly big with the full disclosure and she asked a lot of random things on the side but I got the feeling that she was really just asking me about you."

I sigh, " What about me?"

She sighs and crinkles her nose to aid her recollection, "She asked about what our relationship is now and stuff about Dave Karofsky and Puck."

My mouth is incredibly dry, "Really?" my mouth feels like I've just been chewing on cotton balls. "I mean did she get to any kind of point or was it just random questions?"

Brittany fiddles with a displaced shelf tag as she considers her response, "Well, no not really but I pretty much figured out what she was saying behind the words."

Of course she did, "And that is?"

Brittany chews at her lip thoughtfully. All this thoughtful consideration is starting to worry me. Brittany never spends a lot of time processing her thoughts. She doesn't worry about filtering anything she says. She's so open and honest plus so crazy intelligent that she doesn't feel the need to dwell on her words.

Finally she turns back to where I'm standing with a pair of heels swinging from one hand, the other picking at the seam of my dress, "She thinks she might be in love with you."

I choke on some spit at the back of my throat and instantly try to cough up a lung or my stomach. By the time the coughing subsides, I've dropped the shoes and am taking deep breaths and carefully wiping tears from the corners of my eyes.

Brittany rubs a calming hand up and down my back, looking at me with concern, "Do you still have your esophagus?" she asks and I laugh as she means me to do.

I finally catch my breath and decide we need some caffein and comfortable chairs to continue this conversation.

* * *

><p>Brittany slurps at the cream on top of the skinny, mocha, choc-ripple frappe that I just bought her. My mind goes to that place boys must disappear to when I'm eating a hot dog or a popsicle. Pushing away my dirty thoughts I wonder whether Brittany might just forget the topic of Quinn altogether. We had struck up a conversation about Britt's sister's gymnastics competition during our hunt for caffeination and we had managed to slip back into our usual patterns. We even had our ankles tangled together under the table and her right shoulder and arm were pressed against my left arm as she sipped at her iced coffee drink.<p>

I sipped at my own skinny cappuccino and promptly burned my tongue.

"Ouch," I grumbled aloud, mostly just to break the silence between us.

Brittany turned her body to face me, her expression serious, "What happened?" she asked in a low voice.

"Just burned my tongue Britt." I try to smile but I kinda know that she isn't asking about my over-hot coffee. She's asking about Quinn and I'm in avoidance mode.

I look into her eyes and they are so wide and innocent and accepting. I have to look away and I try not to acknowledge any feeling which could be identified as shame or guilt.

My voice cracks on the first syllable out of my mouth, "Wha—what do you want to know Britt? I mean—how much do you want me to tell you?"

Brittany gives me a half shrug which is so far beyond helpful I have no words, "Brittany," I nudge her shoulder with mine. "You're gonna have to give me something here."

She nods in understanding, "I know. And I know that I pushed you into this. I just...wasn't as ready as I thought I would be for when it happened you know? Like when we were in Freshman year and we had to take that trip to Columbus with Cheerios and my jaw was wired shut."

I'm not sure what she could be referring to but I let it go. This is too important a conversation to get distracted. I nod for her to continue, prompting her silently to ask her questions.

Her first words aren't a question, "You slept with Quinn last night," I nod slowly, watching her face for any sign of a reaction. Her face remains frustratingly passive as she continues, "Was it...nice?" she finishes unexpectedly.

I'm sure that sentence was going somewhere else but I don't want to push it. I shrug because I'm a fucking coward, "Yeah I guess. I mean it was a little awkward or something to start but I still rocked her world." I can't help but smirk and Brittany shoves at my shoulder.

"Be serious San!"

"I am being serious, Britt. It was all great and she...we sexied up the Fabray mansion successfully—actually that's a question you might be able to answer for me...did Quinn's mum go back to her maiden name? Will Quinn?"

"Stop changing the subject Santana." I love Brittany's stern face and it makes a warm feeling spread through my chest despite my best effort to appreciate how serious Brittany was being.

"I'm sorry Britt," I say scooping some cream off the top of her drink and licking it off my finger. I can see Brittany's eyes follow the movement but she refuses to be diverted.

"San, there were other things that were important in this...Quinn plan. You've got Quinn all juicy but what does that mean to you? What does that mean for Quinn?"

I latch onto the second question, "Well, Quinn is a mess. Definitely gay, or at least bisexual but she isn't exactly up to embracing her unicorn self yet."

"What do you mean? What did she say to you?"

"Well," I look down, feeling a little ashamed by the way I had left Quinn this morning. "She didn't say a lot. More like she was kind of crying uncontrollably until she stopped and then got all icy and stare-into-space-y."

Brittany's stern look came back, "Did you break Quinn again?"

"What do you mean _again_? Look, all I know is that she nearly tore the house down with the epic orgasm I gave her and then she completely broke down with crying and snot and all. I mean, come on, what the hell? Who's first response to _that_ happening to their body is sobbing like one of those fat, white women in Graceland."

Britt looked thoughtful for a moment but offered me no possible explanation. Instead she continued with more questions, "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Santana," again Brittany uses my full name which is a sure sign that she is about to get snippy. It doesn't come out often but when it does, Britt's angry voice could out-freeze the arctic.

I groan all the same, really not wanting to talk emotions, even with Brittany, "Well I did come to certain revelations I guess," My cheeks are burning and I try to use as few words as possible, "I can safely and surely declare that I am really, really gay." I say the last word firmly and with conviction so that Britt won't make me repeat it.

"So you are a Unicorn through and through? No more lesbian colony in Tribeca?"

I chuckle, "No more lesbian colony in Tribeca. And no more denial. I still can't be all out-and-proud at school or anything but I think I've accepted this whole thing for myself."

Brittany beams brightly at me, "I'm so proud of you Santana," she pauses thoughtfully again and I hold my breath for what she could say next. "But what are we going to do about Quinn? If she's all in denial town, population her then we're going to have to pull her out of there and back into corn-ville. Even if she's a juicy bi-corn like me."

I shrug my shoulders glad that we'd gotten past discussing my issues, "I really don't know Britt. That's kind of why I wanted to see you so early. Quinn froze me out this morning—except for when she climbed into the shower with me, but that was just weird—"

Britt held up one hand and turned her body back to stare at me front on, "Hold up, she got into the shower with you but you couldn't get her to talk about what happened?"

I frown at her interruption and her tone, "I'm no good at this stuff Britt!" I object earnestly. "That's why I told her to come to your place later, so we can all three of us talk about what's going on with her. I was going to buy some more vodka and—"

Again Brittany interrupted me, "No San, no alcohol. She needs to have a real conversation about this."

I wonder when Brittany became the level head in this relationship, friendship, whatever.

"Fine, but we are going to need to stock up on some serious junk food for this one," I glance at her speculatively. "Especially if you're even close to right about the whole _Quinn's in love with me_ part of the equation."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> So

I've had a few comments that this story shouldn't be categorized with Quinn and Santana if I'm not planning a Quintana end game. I feel as though i should give a reply to these comments. I'm not going to tell you here if Quintana romance is endgame or not for this fic because I feel that it's irrelevant. This story is about Quinn and Santana's relationship. It's not like I would put this under a Faberry pairing or a Brittana pairing because that's not what this is about. The two characters I am focusing on here are Quinn and Santana who are (thankfully) complicated characters with complex emotions. I'm pretty sure that any Quintana pairing set during the highschool timeline which ignored the two girls' other emotional entanglements(be it our lady ships or their Finn/Puck history) would at best be AU and at worst probably pretty dull. That's how I feel and that's why this story is staying exactly where it is.

I love all of my readers no matter where they fit in the aforementioned fic placement debate.

Stay awesome readers!


	9. Hope

_To know you. Is to love you.  
><em>_You're everywhere I go  
><em>_And everybody knows_

_To love you is to be part of you  
><em>_I've paid for you with tears  
><em>_And swallowed all my pride_

Brittany is dancing away to some Madonna song I can't quite place. I'm loving the lyrics though so I pull out my phone to Shazam it. _Beautiful Stranger_ by Madonna is my new favorite song and I download it quickly onto my phone.

As that song winds down and The Police kick in with _Roxanne_ I push my phone into my pocket, singing along with the lyrics I know well.

_Roxanne,  
><em>_You don't have to put on the red light.  
><em>_Those days are over.  
><em>_You don't have to sell your body to the night._

As the song reaches the chorus, Brittany throws her head back and closes her eyes, throwing her whole body into the dance.

I could watch her all day and as she spins around, making eye contact with me I feel a shudder pass through my body. Her gaze combined with the musical climax of the song is enough to have me throwing my hands above my head and dancing in my seat on the bed. I almost wish I had some alcohol available but only so I could have justification for the elation I naturally just feel in Brittany's presence.

Brittany grins at me and sways her hips in time to the music. She makes her way over to me and I try desperately to disguise my own grin. She kneels in front of me on the bed and leans in until her face is only a few inches away from mine. I'm holding my breath and I'm sure that she is too. I don't know what its going to take for one of us to break and kiss the other but I am determined to outlast her.

_I got you in the palm of my hand  
><em>_Wanna put somethin' hot in you  
><em>_So hot that you can't stand_

I burst out laughing as I hear Brittany's voice coming from her speaker in the corner of the room. Brittany had, with Artie's help recorded the song she'd written in New York and burned it to a CD for my Birthday. Apparently the song had made it into her iTunes and had slipped into whatever playlist she was currently playing. As I laugh, she jumps back from me covering her own laugh with one hand.

I leap up from the bed as the song reaches the last chorus.

_I'm sayin' what's up to my cup (Ahh)_

_I'm sayin' what's up to my cup (Ahh)_

I'm singing along to Brittany's ridiculous song and wondering for the hundredth time how no one other than me seemed to understand or appreciate Brittany's sense of humor.

We twirl and dance around each other until a Pink song takes over on the stereo. We come to a stop, leaning against one another and clutching at our sides. Both of us have been laughing hard enough to make our cheeks and our stomaches ache. When Brittany stands us both up straight, she looks into my eyes and I realise that we are standing almost toe to toe with our faces mere inches apart.

I want to kiss her. I really do, and I can see in Britt's eyes that she wants to as well.

"Britt," I say, not sure what I really want to say to her.

"San, we can...If you want to," she says as her eyes flicker down to my lips and back to my eyes.

"Britt—" I say her name one more time before her lips capture mine and I lean heavily into her body.

I feel her arms wrap around my shoulders and my own hands pull at her hips until our bodies are pressed together. The electricity that thrums through my body at her touch is almost more than I can stand.

Then I remember Quinn.

I pull back from Brittany slightly and she is instantly aware, drawing back from the kiss as soon as I do. It's as though Brittany has anticipated my withdrawal and is prepared for it. We keep our arms locked around each other but our lips disconnect and my eyes seek hers out.

When I look into her face I see something like resignation there.

She gives me a small smile and I feel tears well up in my eyes, "I'm sorry," I try to say.

She cuts me off, "No, it's okay, I'll—"

The door opens beside us and my head flicks around, well aware of the compromising position I find myself. The number of times that Mrs Pierce has found Brittany and I nearly naked or otherwise horizontal is ridiculous. But since we'd been operating under that don't-ask-don't-tell thing I'm bracing myself for an older woman looking shocked. I try to look innocent since I'm not sure Brittany's mum's blood pressure could handle finding the two of us in this particular embrace.

What I'm not prepared for is Quinn. She is standing on the other side of the doorframe wearing that shut down, I don't care expression. I know that look and I also know that it disguises a whole world of hurt. My eyes flick between Quinn and Brittany as I try to asses the damage that may be happening for both girls(and for myself).

As far as Quinn can know, Britt and I were just hugging. That's the physical. Emotionally, I don't know what Quinn might have seen. I try to step back from Brittany even though I know that it's too late. There is nothing left for me to do but take whatever Quinn throws at me. Of course, Quinn does the opposite of what I expect and she spins around, heading straight for the door. Before I can even think of what to say she's through the door. I move to follow her and am dimly surprised when Brittany is just a few steps behind me.

"Quinn, wait," I call out to her, not really expecting her to turn around. If I had seen what she'd seen I would have left whoever was involved in the dust. There would be no reason for me to turn around. Thankfully, Quinn is more accepting than I am and she stops at the bottom of the stairs as I call out from the top of them.

I call out to her again, "Seriously Q. We need to talk about this."

She turns to face me, "What could we have to talk about that you couldn't discuss with Brittany,"

She puts those obnoxious air quotes around the word 'discuss' as though the word could be code for something else.

"Come on Q," I say with as much persuasion as I can manage and taking a few steps toward her. "Don't be like that."

I hold out my hand and hope. There is nothing else I _can_ do but hope that she takes my hand

* * *

><p>AN: This is just a short one to get out some Quinntana feels in celebration of my Tumblr Dashboard which is completely FULL of Nayanna Rivergron posts right now. Seeing all the Quinntana tags made me want to come on here and update. Some Quinntana alone time is coming up soon. Enjoy.<br>Reviews are love!


	10. Quoting Scripture

"I don't want to do this with you Santana!" Quinn yells. She has that slightly crazed look in her eye that I recognize.

My stance shifts and Quinn and I are now both poised for a fight. Of course we are. It's how we work together. It's what makes our relationship what it is.

Read: Damaged.

I rise to the unspoken challenge in Quinn's tone and body language, "Really Quinn? Because you kind of look like you're ready to go a few rounds. Maybe get in a good kick or two. Is that what you want? To slap me down?"

Quinn' expression shutters and her voice lowers to a barely audible murmur. She shakes her head, "I think I've had enough of those physical confrontations with you."

I don't know why I react the way I do but I instantly arch up. Like an angry cat, my hackles rise in response to her quiet statement, "You didn't seem to mind our physical confrontations last night," I throw the words back at her.

I know instantly that I've gone too far and said too much. Quinn's face seems to crumple, shifting abruptly from anger to confusion to general devastation. The anger which had boiled up so quickly inside of me fades into nothing almost instantly. I don't even really know what we're fighting about anymore. I stand awkwardly mid way down the stairs, unsure of how to proceed. Quinn remains still at the bottom, staring intently at a loose thread on her sleeve. Her eyes are glossy.

When the first sob makes her shoulders shake Brittany is the one to stumble down the last few stairs; she wraps her arms around Quinn's shaking body and whispers comforting nonsense into Quinn's hair. Quinn wraps her arms around Brittany's waist, burying her face into Brittany's shoulder.

When I finally approach them, close enough to see Quinn's face I almost shudder. I can see pain in her eyes more devastating than I've ever seen before. I know now why she ran away from me and Brittany. She wanted to avoid exactly this. She didn't want me to see all this pain and hurt and fear written so clearly across her features.

I think of how Quinn presents herself at school; she holds her emotions behind the highest walls. That's why everyone thinks she is cold and emotionless. She appears heartless, not because she is but because she is terrified of what people would see if she did let her feelings show.

I want to comfort her, I really do.

I think back to the mini breakdown Britt and I were witness to in New York a few months ago. Quinn had lashed out then, pissed off and determined to destroy our chances at National's. The Quinn I had witnessed that day, though a little nuts at least had some strength in her. She was a woman with a plan. She had her shields up and her defenses prepared. Brittany and I had slipped passed her walls by pure luck. We had slipped through a crack to see her pain.

On that day we got her passed that little Berry/Finn revenge kick long enough to get a hair cut and forget about her ruin-our-chances-at-Nationals plan. Today I don't know what to do. I have no suggestions, no ideas for how to get passed this.

Quinn is just so broken.

Today, Quinn's walls are not just damaged but completely gone and I know it's my fault. After these last few weeks I should have understood how Quinn would react. I should have been able to stop this exact scenario from happening. As it is, I am utterly void of ideas on how to repair the broken girl now wrapped in Brittany's arms.

Brittany continues to run her fingers through Quinn's hair just like I had done after Quinn had argued with her father; just as I had down for her last night.

I stand awkwardly, staring at the carpet until Brittany finally pulls away from Quinn just a little, "Come upstairs Quinn, we can talk about this okay?"

Quinn nods and I step back to let Brittany brush past me with Quinn still wrapped tightly in her arms. I watch them pass and Brittany turns to give me a look that clearly says how disappointed in me she is. I feel my heart clench in my chest and I remember what Brittany had said earlier about me breaking Quinn(again). I don't know what it means or how all of this could be my fault or how Brittany could be mad at me.

I'm just going along with Brittany's plans aren't I? It was Britt's idea for me to get Quinn into bed; to shove Quinn out of her custom built closet(prison) and realize what she wanted and how she feels about girls. I was practically following orders wasn't I?

Wasn't I?

Even in my own mind, my excuses and deflections feel weak and insincere. Sure Brittany had been the first to come to the conclusion that Quinn might secretly be a great big Lez. Brittany had even been the one to notice all those subtle indications that led her to the very true conclusion that Quinn had feelings for Rachel Berry.

But in the end I was the one to follow up on Britt's ideas. I was the one to approach Quinn under the bleachers. I had put Britt's ideas into action and actively pursued Quinn, regardless of what I knew I could be doing to Quinn's feelings. Most importantly, I was the one that had left Quinn alone in her house to deal with all that emotional shit that comes with realizing just how fucking gay you really might be.

It took me months to deal with that realization. It nearly destroyed me when Brittany chose her relationship with Artie over me.

Not that Quinn is in love with me. This particular notion of Britt's is ridiculous.

I care for her and she for me. I know that much for sure. But that's it.

"Santana?"

When I hear Brittany's voice call my name from her room I jolt as if from sleep. I'm still mid way down the stairs and Quinn has disappeared with Britt into her room.

I follow quickly, minding the steps that I know squeak on Brittany's stairs. I know that there is no need to muffle my steps in the house right now but I do it anyway. Almost habitually. With all the times that Britt and I have snuck into her room after curfew it shouldn't be surprising that I tread the same careful steps.

When I get into Brittany's room I find Quinn still wrapped up in Brittany's arms. They're on the floor leaning into the side of Britt's bed. Brittany has her back against the overhanging comforter and Quinn is leaning into Brittany's chest, sobbing quietly.

I sit down in front of them with my legs folded underneath me. I stare at my hands as I pick awkwardly at the lint and fluff stuck in the carpet. From my position I can see the pink mark left in the beige carpet where Britt spilled red cordial on the floor. I'm pretty sure we were maybe twelve years old when that happened. Right next to it is a small burned spot where I dropped the cherry of a joint I was smoking early last year. It gives me an idea.

"Hey Britt," I begin hesitantly. "Have you still got that weed I left here in the last week of summer?"

Britt gives me a speculative look, "Yeah San, but I thought we agreed. No—"

"Yeah no alcohol."I interrupr her thought, "And I wholeheartedly agree but I think we might need this one. Things are getting way too hectic."

Quinn gives a tiny hiccup as if to reinforce my notion that things have gotten way too heavy to deal with clear headed. Brittany looks down at Quinn's pink head before looking back at me. I hold my breath, unsure for the first time in a long time what Brittany's response is going to be. Finally she shrugs and then nods her head towards her bedside table.

I jump up immediately to retrieve the small parcel from the back of her draw. I then wriggle on my stomach past the two girls, half under the bed to retrieve the lighter, papers and filters from between the planks of Brittany's bed frame.

We've been using these hiding places for years. For everything from weed and alcohol to condoms. If Britt's Mum has ever found any of it she's failed to confront us about it. Honestly, I'd say Mrs Pierce would rather just pretend she hadn't found anything incriminating in her daughters room. That's just how she operates.

I unsnap the zip locked bag and breath in deeply. The familiarity of the smell is comforting. Quinn looks up at me and I can see that her tears have finally stopped. There seem to still be aftershock of sobs running through her but they are dry and silent.

"Chronic lady?" Quinn asks.

I smile at her in what I hope is a friendly way, "Nah, not that good. It's from one of Puck's cousins. It'll do the job though."

Quinn nods and I know that I'll be rolling one for her.

I pull out the first paper and filter, crossing my legs and stretching my dress across my knees to make a surface I can work on. I use the scissors that I found alongside the papers under Britt's bed to chop the grass straight back into the zip locked bag. I don't need to ask if Brittany will be joining us. She never denies her place in a peace circle. I think maybe she considers it bad luck or something to sit out. Either way, I know she's in and chop enough to share.

I glance up at the two girls watching me. Quinn is still leaning heavily into Brittany and Britt is still running her hands through Quinn's shaggy, pink hair.

I clear my throat, "So um...Apparently we have some stuff to talk about. I mean,I'd rather just get high and skip the melodrama altogether but I'm trying to grow as a person or something so yeah," I'm feeling much more comfortable talking about stuff now that my hands are occupied.

Brittany and Quinn share a look I can't interpret before they both turn away from each other with a smirk.

"What?" I ask wondering what I could possibly have missed in the few moments it took me to follow them upstairs. "What did I miss."

Quinn answers and I'm glad she's found her steady voice again, "It's nothing. We just...um...we knew you would open with the word 'apparently'."

Quinn unsuccessfully tries to smother a giggle as Brittany continues her thought, "Yeah I tried to lay five bucks on it but Quinn refused to bet against me," she shrugs as if to say c'est la vie.

I shake my head and return my concentration to the scissors in my hands.

From the corner of my eye I see Quinn snuggle further into Brittany, "Are you um," Quinn starts hesitantly. "Are you ready talk about stuff."

I try really hard to not roll my eyes at her. It's as if I was the one who was all avoid-y this morning instead of her. I mean sure, she tried to jump in the shower with me but other that little act of crazy, Quinn was thoroughly dedicated to the not-talking thing.

I stare determinedly at the pack of papers in my lap as I respond with as little snark as I can manage, "Well, yeah. If you are."

Brittany rolls her eyes rather spectacularly. At both of us. "Please will one of you start talking about something?" She's finally had enough of us both, apparently.

I put the scissors down beside me and start filling a fresh paper in my lap. I maintain a focus on this activity so I won't bother responding. I keep my ears tuned to any potential change in Quinn though and I hear one of them move.

Quinn is the first to say anything, "Well, stuff happened."

I scoff, "Yeah you could say that."

"Santana," Brittany warns and I can feel the disapproving glare she shoots me.

Quinn continues, "It's well. We...did...had..."

I interrupt her stuttering, "We had sex Quinn. It's okay to say it out loud. No one's going to smite you." I've rolled the joint as tightly as I can manage but there is still a little too much wiggle room for my liking and sigh, unrolling the joint and discarding the paper.

Quinn scoffs, "Sure that's easy for you to say. You haven't been to church since, like the second grade. You haven't had a father—" she stalls and swallows what I know must be fresh tears. "You haven't had a father beating Leviticus into you with the rest of scripture since before you could walk."

I have no response so I scowl darkly at the new paper in my hands as though it had personally caused Quinn's father to be an asshole.

Quinn starts quoting scripture, "Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable," she says, quoting from heart.

"Do you know the whole thing?" I ask.

"Only the bits my father liked to quote frequently." Quinn replies with a shrug.

"So your Dad liked the gay bashing?" I ask before letting the tip of my tongue slip passed my lips in full concentration. I glance up long enough to see Quinn frown, "Do you think maybe he knew?"

"Knew what?"

I avoid rolling my eyes, only just, "That you're a big homo. Like, he was quoting Leviticus at you like nobodies business because he knew you were inclined toward a—fully justified—preference for the fairer sex."

Quinn is silent and I feel a moment of panic. I'be said the wrong thing yet again.

Brittany interrupts our back and forth with more bible verses, "And if the burnt sacrifice for his offering to the LORD be of fowls, then he shall bring his offering of turtledoves, or of young pigeons." I hadn't expected Britt to have scripture memorized but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised as she adds her own interpretations. "If the first chapter of that book demands that a baby pigeon be sacrificed then I don't think I can listen to much of what it says."

I know just enough about Leviticus to understand that Britt is using the easiest to digest argument against it and Quinn seems to respond in a mostly positive way. At least, she doesn't automatically shut down. She closes her eyes and presses a palm against her face.

Brittany continues, "It also says that if a man cheats on his wife both the man and the woman must die. Do you think your Dad is still quoting that section?"

"Exactly," I say as I hold up my first completed joint level to my eyes, "That filthy old hypocrite didn't even bother with the basic thou-shalt-not's. Is he really the one you want guiding your moral compass?"

Satisfied with my efforts, I hold the newly rolled smoke out to Quinn. She takes a deep breath before lifting it from my hand. With my hands free, I'm able to reach a blanket from the bed and throw it towards the door. Hopefully it will be enough to stop any smoke spreading into the rest of the house.

Brittany gives Quinn's shoulders one more squeeze before slipping away from her and standing up. She moves quickly to the window and throws back the latch. Breathing onto the glass she draws a love heart into the condensation. Quinn lights up the joint.

There is a small squeek as Brittany draws an arrow through her heart and I can here the smallest crackle of heat as Quinn takes her first drag. She holds the smoke in her chest as she passes the joint to me.

Brittany opens the window finally as Quinn lets out her breath and I take my first drag. It tastes awful and burns my throat but I hold it deep in my chest all the same, letting the smoke drift slowly out through my nose. I hold my hand out to Brittany who takes a seat in between me and Quinn. My back is to the door now and Quinn is still leaning against the bed.

"So now that we've gotten past scripture," I talk directly to Quinn as more smoke escapes my mouth. "Can we get into the way better stuff? Like what we're going to do about all these gay feelings of yours."

Quinn glares at me, "Who says I'm gay anyway. I mean maybe I just felt like having sex and you were there."

I share a glance with Brittany, "Well sure, maybe you just felt like having sex with someone and that someone just happened to be a girl. But what about Berry?"

"What about Rachel?"

Uh oh.

"Well you do have a fairly substantial lady crush on her." I can feel the weed taking effect and cushioning my brain against higher thought processes. I hope that the same effect is happening to Quinn so she won't be able to maintain her usual capacity for self deception.

I take the smoke back from Brittany to drag down another lung full and pass it on to Quinn.

I'm glad when Quinn takes it without a thought, "Do you remember Junior prom?" she asks abruptly. I turn my body to look at her more directly. She looks about ready to cry again and she continues with a slight tremor to her voice, "I was so worried that everyone would figure out how much Finn wanted Rachel, so worried that I would look alone at prom. I was terrified," she gives a mocking laugh.

I give her a small smile as I remember the night of Junior Prom, "You still had your photo taken, even after Finn got kicked out. You got back in there."

She gives me another teary smile, "And do you know why I was able to do that?

"Get your photo taken?"

"Yeah and carry on with Prom in general," she paused to wipe away the tears that had escaped her eyes. "The only reason that I was able to go back into the gym, have my photo taken alone, dance, any of it...The only reason I didn't just go home with mascara streaming down my cheeks is because of Rachel."

I give her a quizzical look, "But she's one of the reasons you were crying in the first place."

Quinn shakes her head, "No, Finn is the reason I was crying. Finn was the reason that I was forced off that stage in tears."

I'm tempted to point out that it was actually the student body's mass-homophobia in electing Kurt Prom Queen that had sent us both away in tears but I don't.

She continues with a light blush flooding her cheeks, "I slapped her. Did you know that?"

I did not know that, "I'll be honest, I was a little wrapped up in my own deal actually"

"Well I did. And do you know what her response was?" Quinn started to cry again. "She said I was the prettiest girl she had ever met and then wiped the tears from my face. She had the softest touch you could possibly imagine and this was after I had slapped her. I mean, I slapped the girl and all she wanted was to be nice to me. She said she 'appreciated the drama' or something but I'm sure she just wanted to make sure that I was okay. Can you imagine Rachel ever being that selfless?"

I shake my head. I can't imagine any member of the Glee club being that selfless.

"Yeah, neither could I." She looks completely dejected, as though everything we've been talking about has been weighing on her heavily.

"So what does this all come down to in the end?" I ask her. "Are you in love with her or something?"

Quinn shrugs non committaly.

I roll my eyes, "Well, I think it's time for you to figure that out Q."


End file.
